


Ryū no Chitose (竜の千年) The Dragon's Millennium

by AriRockefeller



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga), Dragon Ball, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Adoption, Angst, Character Study, Crossover Pairings, Death in the Family, Earning Your Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Multiple Crossovers, Multiverse Convergence, Multiverse Theory, The Four Loves, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 66,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriRockefeller/pseuds/AriRockefeller
Summary: Three distinct worlds, all alike in dignity, are coming together in ways that the three have never seen before. And while reality bends to accommodate them, it can only bend so far before it finally...breaks...(Started as part of the NaNoWriMo 2016 )





	1. Pardon Me, While I Burst into Flames

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by _Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama._

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 _“Goku… Goku…”_

                Far off in a part of space untouched by humankind was a planet—well, not just _a_ planet; humanity had a long way to go before it had the technological and psychological capacities to travel through deep space, and a myriad of civilizations would not know of the planet Earth or its people—was a technologically advance species known as the Yardat, who occupied a planet of the same name. Their technological and spiritual might were incredible, strong enough to resist falling under the thumb of the ruthless planet trade conglomeration run by a family of “frost demons” to use the colloquial term, the chief of which being a tyrant by the name of Freeza. 

                Not that they would have to worry about them anymore, anyhow. Freeza was dead. And the cause of his death was currently stranded on their planet, training in martial arts by day and convalescing by night. 

                A Saiyan warrior who called the remote, underdeveloped, backwater planet Earth home. The Super Saiyan of Legend. 

_“Son Goku… can you hear me?”_

                The Saiyan warrior’s recuperation was hampered by his insistence on training throughout the days, despite the strain it put on his body. Along with his martial arts training, the Yardat people had chosen to teach them their secret, hidden technique. They called it Instant Transmission; the layman observing it would just call it teleporting. But the process was physically and mentally taxing. Goku found himself falling to sleep faster, sleeping deeper, and taking more effort to wake up in the mornings. 

                _“You must listen to me, Son Goku…”  
_

Which was a boon to the one trying to contact him, since in order to manifest before a “mundane” person—read: not a magic user—required them to be in either a state of deep meditation or deep sleep; the deeper, the better. Of course, she wouldn’t tell him that the Yardats in charge of training him in Instant Transmission were “persuaded” to push Goku to his limits, deliberately exhausting him. 

                It took several tries, but the Saiyan warrior finally heard the confident, refined, distinctively feminine voice calling out to him in his dreams. He snapped upright in his bed… or what he thought was his bed, anyhow. “Y-yeah?” he called out, not sure what to say or who to say it to. He was floating around what looked like a deep purple void, with no visible end in sight. Not that he could move, anyhow. He could still look around, but his sphere of movement was very limited. “Did someone call me?” 

                “Yes, Son Goku. I have.” 

                Goku turned to where he heard the voice coming from, and paused. Standing several yards in front of him was a beautiful woman, about as tall as he was, with piercing purple eyes. She had an olive complexion to her, possibly of Mediterranean descent, and she had black hair with a green tint that went almost down to her knees. She was wearing what Goku recognized as a “sailor fuku” outfit, her skirt, sailor scarf, knee-high boots, and cuffs of her arm-length gloves were black, the bow on her chest being a dark purple, and the main body and gloves pure white. In her hand she held a long, thin, silver shaft, which looked like a giant key, the top of it crowned with a round garnet, the shaft parting around and surrounding the garnet in the shape of a heart. 

                Goku just kind of looked at her. “Um…” he started. “Well, here I am…” He rubbed the back of his head, confused. “What exactly did you want with me?” 

                “I have tried to contact you over the last several days, Goku,” the woman explained. “I cannot go forth with any pleasantries. Something has happened to bring our universes together in ways they were never meant to intertwine.” 

                “Wait…” he started. “So you come from another world?” He couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll bet you’re a powerful fighter were you’re from. You sure come off like one, in that regard, then…” 

                “I am. But that is not the point,” she retorted. “While you have been away from your home, strange phenomena have been happening both in your world, my world…” She looked away for a moment. “…and a third.” She met Goku’s eyes again. “This intermingling of worlds has been benign so far, but understand that the consequences could be far further reaching than either one of us could imagine. I personally have only begun to investigate, so I cannot say what will happen in the long run.” 

                “So where do I come in in all this?” 

                “I first learned of you during your battle on the planet Namek,” she explained. “I felt a tremendous output of energy, and got my first glimpse into your reality.” 

                “Tremendous output…” He blinked, and suddenly grinned wide. “Oh! Hey! You mean when I first went Super Saiyan!” 

                “Specifically that moment? No. Before that was when the first cracks started to form.” Her eyes closed. “Hatred immeasurable pushed out in all directions, straining the walls of reality itself…” 

                Goku nodded. “I know when you’re talking about now,” he said solemnly. “When Freeza achieved his final form.” He looked away for a moment, not too thrilled on recalling that battle. How he killed an openly weeping Vegeta. How Piccolo was grievously wounded. How Krillin was blown up right in front of him. And when he was balancing on the razor’s edge, coming dangerously close to a complete psychotic breakdown, Freeza uttered six words that launched Goku over the edge… _I think the brat should go next!_ “You haven’t answered me; what does all of this have to do with me?” 

                “You, Son Goku, are without a doubt, the strongest warrior in this universe… for the time being,” she said. “Not just for your physical strength, but because of the hope you exude. Because of the salvation the weak and oppressed feel when in your presence. I could think of no one better suited to help guide this universe away from the brink of oblivion.” 

                Goku let out a low hum of acknowledgment. “Yes… I’ve been coming to terms with that myself, these past few weeks,” he said. “Heh… and here I was just trying to intimidate Freeza by calling myself the hope of the universe.” 

                “Before utterly humiliating him.” 

                “Before utterly humiliating him, yeah,” Goku added, chuckling nervously. “Guess you saw that, too, huh?” 

                The woman nodded. She waved her free hand in a semicircle, and a circular viewing field appeared in between them, about chest height. She gestured for Goku to look at it. “Listen to me, Goku. Your friends and family, and the people of Namek that you helped saved, they have the means to resurrect your fallen friends.” A blue-haired woman in a yellow flight suit was talking to an elderly looking green man—a Namekian, to be precise. 

                “Right! The Dragonballs!” he said, snapping his fingers. “That’s why we went to Namek in the first place! Because Piccolo died, and Kami died along with him…” 

                “…rendering Earth’s Dragonballs inert, yes. I have looked into your history when I had the chance to observe your universe. This is key. Soon they will get to use them again, and with their last wish, they will wish for you to return to Earth.” She looked sternly at Goku. “No matter what happens, you must allow yourself to return to Earth.” 

                “What? But what if I don’t finish learning the Instant Transmission?” he asked. “And my other training here?” 

                “At your rate of progress, you will indeed master Instant Transmission,” she assured him. “But more to the point: your Earth and mine, as well as the third Earth I alluded to, will come into great peril in the future. When you get home, keep an eye out on the news programs in your area. The first report you see of this woman…” The scene changed again, showing off a girl with long blonde pigtails in a similar outfit to the woman before him, only her colors were blue, white, and red. “…seek her out. She will be one of your key allies in the times to come.” 

                Goku’s gaze switched from the girl to the woman before him several times. “Your outfits are kind of the same. Is she one of your kind, too?” 

                “Yes. She is called Sailor Moon. She and her friends are collectively known as the Sailor Senshi, each representing a different planet, and with mastery over a different element or power.” She gestured to herself with her free hand. “I am known as Sailor Pluto, and I have control over time—not just stopping, or slowing, or traveling through it, but observing events of the past and present to help ensure a better future.” 

                “So there’s one for every planet, I’m guessing?” 

                “Except Earth. But that’s a special exception.” The scene in the viewing field changed again, with Sailor Moon fighting alongside a man in a formal white tie and tails ensemble, accented with a top hat, cane, red lined cape, and a mask. “That is Tuxedo Mask, another ally of theirs. Their relationship is… complicated. You will have to learn more about them at another time.” 

                Goku nodded. “Wait, what about this third Earth? What’s gonna happen to that?” 

                Sailor Pluto sighed.  “Unfortunately, the gears of tragedy are already turning…” She waved her hand and the scene on the viewing field changed again. This time, Goku was treated to the image of a boy running around the wilderness, about his own son’s age. His hair was black, but mostly covered by a red and white cap with a strange symbol on the front he didn’t recognize. The rest of his clothing was ordinary, as well—jeans, black shirt, blue short-sleeved jacket with white sleeves. What was peculiar was a yellow creature hanging on his shoulder like a parrot, with a jagged tail and little red circular cheeks. Running alongside him was a girl about his age with red hair, denim shorts, a yellow top, and red suspenders, clutching what looked like a massive white egg, covered in red and blue hollow triangles, in her arms. Also with him was a taller boy, in a green vest, orange shirt, dark khakis, with a darker complexion and spiky brown hair. 

                Goku didn’t know what to think just by looking at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, showing me this,” he said tentatively. “I mean…” He looked at Sailor Pluto again. “Is something bad going to happen to him?” 

                “Indeed,” Pluto said, nodding sadly. “He is a tamer of the beasts of the fields and birds of the air in his homeland. But he is still human. And soon he will be beset by an unspeakable tragedy. He will be as a ship adrift upon the sea with no one to guide him.” 

                Goku frowned, his eyebrows creasing into a saddened expression. “And you can’t stop it?” 

                She shook her head. “I cannot. I have only been able to peer into his world for moments at a time. And what I saw in his future is grim, indeed. He will have, to put it plainly, nothing.” Pluto saw Goku’s worried look, and continued. “But know that he has great potential within him. I have seen, albeit briefly, how he has helped save his world on several occasions. He is capable of great things, Goku. But he cannot achieve them alone. He will need your guidance. And your love.” A small smile formed on Sailor Pluto’s lips. “And he will benefit from them greatly.” 

                Her words gave Goku pause. “Wait… what do you mean by that?” he asked. “Why are you bringing up love? And… what does that have to do with him? Us, I guess, would be better?” He shrugged. “What does that have to do with us?”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

                 _What you can provide him is the love of a father for his children. It is a love he has never known…_

 

                Deep in the Johto region, a young trainer from Pallet Town in Kanto traveled throughout the land, searching far and wide. Like many children his age, once he turned ten years old—May 22nd, for him—he became eligible to set out on a Pokémon Journey, starting on the April 1st following said tenth birthday. And his journey, starting out, was a comedy of errors. There’s no polite way to put it. He had no idea what he was doing. 

                But let the record show that Ash Ketchum was indeed a fast learner. 

                It was very rough starting out, and many observers would gladly tell you that he got his first badges by happenstance. Or just through sheer, dumb luck. Even the rare occasion when he won through his opponent’s Pokémon being sabotaged or otherwise hampered, he would insist on starting over and doing it cleanly. Not that it mattered, especially if he won anyway. The Indigo Conference was his first major test; his stage fright was so highly uncommon for him, but he managed to persevere through the trials set before him. He might have actually gone further than he did—even won, as some sources speculate—had it not been for an ornery Charizard who laid down and took a nap instead of fighting an opponent he saw as not worth his time. He was upset, but not completely broken. The promise of new leagues and new journeys awaited him, and he longed to take advantage of them. 

                His next journey through the Orange Archipelago saw him exploring a tropical paradise where people and Pokémon lived more closely with each other, and with nature. And after helping to avert a major catastrophe involving no less than _three_ legendary Pokémon—the fourth of which he got to ride through the air like something out of a fantasy—he took on the Orange Crew and eventually defeated their champion, a man by the name of Drake, who did not know defeat until meeting the kid from Pallet Town with the Pikachu on his shoulder. He brought his newfound championship back home to Pallet Town with him, as well as a local artist by the name of Tracey, who fell in with his mentor, Professor Samuel Oak, as his new lab aide. It wasn’t long before Ash left home again, saying goodbye to his mother, and setting off for the neighboring Johto region. 

                Along the way, accompanying him were two of the best friends he had in the world. Both of them were gym leaders, the first of which he met on the first day of his journey, without even knowing of her identity. And after trashing her bike. With her bright red hair and fiery attitude to match, Misty traveled with Ash after fishing him out of a river—and then slapping the taste out of his mouth—under the pretense that he owed her a bike. She wasn’t wrong; it got trashed when Pikachu electrocuted an entire flock of Spearow and their Fearow gang leader. But it was either that or they get seriously wounded—or worse—on Ash’s first day of his journey. Of course, the issue about the bike was fading fast. Misty saw the way Ash stole looks at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, wearing those short denim shorts and tight little yellow top, “held up” with red suspenders. She might have thrashed him for it at the start. But soon she found it…flattering. She had believed Ash was incredibly dense and cared about nothing other than his next Pokémon battle, what Pokémon he was going to catch next, or where his next Badge would come from. But that wasn’t the case. Whatever Ash was passionate about got his almost undivided attention. Other things piqued his interest, obviously. But trying to match the enthusiasm Ash Ketchum has for Pokémon is something beyond the abilities of mortal men and women. 

                Perhaps, someday, he’d show that outward enthusiasm for her, as well. It wouldn’t be a matter of if…but _when_. 

                Of course, passion for the opposite sex was completely monopolized by Ash’s other traveling companion. Another Gym Leader, the first one Ash faced, with his dark skin, earth tone clothes, and narrow, almost permanently squinting eyes, Brock of Pewter City was an intimidating figure at first. Ash had to battle him twice; he was going to let it go to a third fight after the Gym’s sprinkler system went off and soaked his poor Onix, the quad damage it suffered from something so trivial nearly undermining Ash’s attempt to win fairly... even if it meant his Pikachu couldn’t damage either of his part-Ground-type Pokémon with its electric attacks. On that day, Brock left the gym, letting his estranged father take over it and his household, having looked after his ten younger siblings. Ironically, as they traveled together, Brock found a brotherly bond with Ash… almost as strong as with his own siblings, if not stronger. That didn’t stop Brock from being a nearly mad womanizer, gawking over just about every female he came across, and having to get pulled away by Misty every time. His advances were supposed to be romantic, might have been construed as offensive, but ultimately harmless. 

                “Finally, we made it,” Ash said as he stepped through the automatic doors of the Pokémon Center, letting out a deep groan as he finally felt he could relax. They had been out in the wild for some time now, and now that the found “civilization” (read: a town with a Pokémon Center in it), they could rest their weary bodies for a while, as well as stock up on food and other supplies. 

                “Yeah, good timing, too,” Brock added. “Weather looks like it’s about to get rough out there…” Indeed, the wind had been picking up as they saw the town in the distance, and the skies were darkening with clouds as well. The three picked up their pace, making it to the Pokémon Center tired, but ultimately in one piece, before any inclement weather happened upon them. 

                “We should probably look into seeing if there are any rooms available,” Misty said as the three approached the counter, where a Nurse Joy was standing behind it, a Chansey next to her, ready to assist with anything. “I mean, there’s not a whole lot of people around, but you never know.” 

                “You’re right,” Ash said as the three of them handed over their Pokémon to be rested, Pikachu electing to stay on Ash’s shoulder, while Misty didn’t let her infantile Togepi out of her sight. “Besides, I think we earned some rest after that last Gym battle…” 

                “No argument there,” Brock added. “Jasmine was tough, really tough. But you pushed through, man.” 

                “Yeah, and you’ve got just two badges left before you qualify for the Silver Conference,” Misty added with a warm smile. 

                Pikachu matched Ash’s confident smile. “Yeah, and it won’t be long now before—huh?” 

                Before Ash could go any further, he saw a woman in a blue police uniform and turquoise hair walk over to them. She had a solemn expression on her face, the likes of which immediately stopped Brock’s flirtatious advances before they even started. She didn’t want to look Ash in the eye right away, but she had to. She had a job to do. “Excuse me, are you Ash Ketchum?” she asked in a somber tone. 

                Ash paused, looking at her confused. “Yeah?” he responded. “That’s me… what’s wrong?” 

                Officer Jenny sighed. “Ash… I have some troubling news to relay to you. It’s…” She saw the looks the three were giving her, and closed her eyes. “It’s about your home.” 

                Ash really didn’t like where this was going. “Wh-what’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

                Jenny was already walking away. “Come with me, please…?” she said, ushering Ash over to a quiet corner of the Pokémon center. 

                Ash shot a worried look at his friends, who stayed put while he walked over with Officer Jenny. They hadn’t been called over, so they stayed behind, unsure of what to do. They lingered at the counter in a bit of a daze, watching as Jenny led him out of earshot. But they could sense Ash’s and Pikachu’s reactions from their body language. One after another, Brock’s and Misty’s hearts dropped into their stomachs, as when Ash turned to face Jenny, she had already taken off her cap…

 

* * *

* * *

 

                 Pallet Town was a quaint, little town on the edge of the Kanto region. But despite it being among the smallest towns in the region, it was vast and colorful, the handful of homes and other building doing little to detract from its rolling green hills and wide fields. Chief among the attractions to the town was Oak Laboratories, home of Professor Oak, one of the foremost authorities on Pokémon in the entire world, whose main area of study was human/Pokémon relationships and interactions. His lab, and the ranch it rested on, took up a huge expanse of land—a requirement, of sorts, for all the Pokémon that get caught and stored at his lab—sitting almost right in the center of town. The windmill up on the tallest hill in the town provided power for the lab, allowing it to function mostly off the grid. It also offered a view of the entire town from the observation deck on the top floor. 

                And right now, a keen eye would see an Officer Jenny pulling up on a motorcycle just a little into town, a speedster in a rather worn looking faded blue car begrudgingly having pulled over. 

                Stepping off her motorcycle, Jenny let out a disgusted sigh as she walked up to the driver’s side of the vehicle. The windows were down—part of her presumed they were stuck; it wasn’t full-on “beater”, but it was pretty bad—so there was nothing obscuring her from the driver’s vision. “Greetings,” she said flatly, trying to main a professional demeanor despite having to put up with a guy who looked like he was going to bolt at any second. “You were sure going awfully fast, weren’t you?” 

                The speedster looked at Jenny with a nervous smile, his brown eyes darting back and forth. “Uh heh heh…” he started, feeling really on edge being in this cop’s presence. “No harm done, right?” 

                “Are you kidding? As fast as you were going?” She scoffed. “You didn’t see any of the speed limit signs anywhere?” She shook her head, not caring about his answer. “License, registration, and proof of insurance, please…” 

                Now the guy behind the wheel was freaking out. What Jenny didn’t know is that the guy before her didn’t actually own the car. He had stolen it a short time ago. Its original owner failed to lock the door, and he hopped right in and hotwired it so that it would start up, and just took off. He didn’t know if any police report had been filed yet; there weren’t many cops where he was when he stole it, but he believed that a “backwater” town like this wouldn’t be well informed on such matters. Not having the proper documentation was the least of his concern. 

                “R-right, uh…” he stammered. “J-just give me a second here…” He nervously stuck his hand out, hovering over the cup holders in the center, where he had a cup of hot coffee stashed. “I think it’s right…” And he grabbed the coffee cup. “HERE!” And his arm snapped towards the open window, the lid flying off and splashing the hot beverage all over Jenny’s face and chest. 

                Jenny screamed in surprise and anger as she was splashed, managing to block a little bit of the splash with her hand, but a good bit of it still got on her face. She staggered back, groaning in pain, wiping the hot substance out of her eyes and off her face, not at the moment caring that it was staining her gloves. What was most important was bringing this clown to justice. Especially since her ears were assaulted by the sound of tires peeling out and speeding away. She coughed as the dust blew over her, waving it off the best she could. She was already running back to her motorcycle, one hand clicking on the two-way holstered on her shoulder. “Suspect in flight; I’m in pursuit,” she shouted before flicking her sirens on, kicking her bike into gear, and driving off after it. 

                Right away it was a bad chase, as not only was the mostly dirt road not very welcoming of her motorcycle, bouncing her in her seat, but the guy she was chasing was all over the road, the suspension in the car clearly less than adequate. She gasped as the car suddenly peeled off the road and towards a loan house with a white picket fence and an elaborate garden in the front. The car seemed like it was picking up speed regardless of the house directly in its path. And it was heading straight for the side of the house.

 

* * *

  

                This was supposed to be just another day for Delia Ketchum, the owner of the Pallet House restaurant, amateur gardener, and the mother of would-be Pokémon Master, Ash Ketchum. The single mother, not even in her 30s, did the best she could with what she was provided in life; her husband—and she used that term very, very loosely at this point in life—had left her and her son when he was only six years old. She was torn by his sudden departure; on one hand, Ash wouldn’t have a father growing up in his formative years, when he could use the mentoring and positive reinforcement. On the other hand, said father was loud, obnoxious, and rather abusive… to both her and her son, the latter of which was subjected, more than once, to the sounds of his parents shouting at one another at all hours of the night, his anger growing and his temper flaring until… 

                Until…

                 Delia didn’t like to think about it. Even though it’s been years, she still has flashbacks to nights like that, even with her senses dulled and pain overwhelming what other senses she could still feel during those harrowing moments. She breathed in sharply through her nose, one hand gently holding her cheek, still able to feel where a stern, dense fist struck her. She shook her head at the recollection, and continued her trek down to the basement, a basket of laundry in one hand, held against her side. The basement was unfurnished, as it was merely there to house the washer and dryer and little else. There was a bare bulb hanging down from the ceiling, two switches, at the top and bottom of the stairs, to turn it on or off. Other knickknacks of hers, stuff she didn’t know where else to put, since she didn’t have a garage, ended up down here, only brought up when needed, such as holiday decorations. 

                Currently, her “butler”, a wild Mr. Mime that she named Mimey, was upstairs cleaning up the bathroom. Delia was taking care of things around her house, having talked to her son just the other day. She felt in high spirits, hearing of his journey and how he won his sixth Badge, growing closer and closer to qualifying for the Silver Conference. He had always promised her he was going to do great things as a Pokémon trainer; sure, winning championships and capturing and training new and exciting Pokémon, befriending them, bonding with them, those were all well and good. But Ash at one point gleaned how a truly skilled Pokémon Master lived—never having to worry about security, or food, or money. Yes, training Pokémon could be very rigorous, but Ash loved it, and he never thought ill of his training; hell, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was never directly said—Ash’s bragging about all the things he’s going to buy and how he’ll end up living as a Pokémon Master notwithstanding—but Ash’s end goal of becoming a successful Pokémon Master was so that he and his mom would never have to worry or want for anything ever again. 

                Anyone could’ve passed those off as the fever dreams of a ten-year-old whose eyes for the world are bigger than his proverbial stomach, but it’s why Delia was so unflinchingly in favor of Ash remaining on the road for months at a time traveling, battling, and winning. Sure, it hurt seeing him go, but—however reluctantly—she put aside her loneliness and fear to let him go out and… what was the old saying? Be the very best, like no one ever was. And if that would apply to anyone, it would be Ash Ketchum.

                 Of course, it didn’t stop the single mother from worrying when she didn’t hear from her son for days at a time. Sure, he explained that he was in the wilderness in between towns, but the thought of something happening to him always lingered in the back of her mind. Actually, a lot of negative thoughts lingered around her head for far longer than they were welcome, either worst-case scenarios as to what could happen to Ash, or catching herself reliving a flashback to her failed marriage. It was why she always busied herself so much, either at her restaurant, or around the home; the massive flower beds around her home weren’t just because she loved to garden. She did, but that wasn’t the point; at the very least, occupying her free time with all sorts of hobbies helped keep her from dwelling on them for too long, lest she lose her composure somewhere… public.

                 Even losing it now, in the privacy of her own home, seemed too embarrassing, as she loaded the clothes into the washer, resting her hands on the closed washer lid, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, pause. In through the… 

                …wait, what was that smell? 

                Delia gasped as the strange smell assaulted her smell. She looked around, sniffed again, and then groused in disgust. “Oh, no…” she muttered. “Don’t tell me…” She looked around the dimly lit and mostly bare basement, cautiously, not wanting the smell to overwhelm her, as she was starting to figure out just what it was. Looking up at one of the pipes running along the ceiling, near the far wall, was a black pipe that had a bit of rust where it connected to another section of pipe… and said rust had flaked away, leaving a handful of small holes. Gas was leaking out, and the woman waved her hand in disgust, trying to wave it away. “Great. Stupid gas leak…” She looked over at the wall for the nearest window, and found a rather small window, about three feet long and two feet wide, and level with the ground outside. She reached up to open it, before she grabbed hold of the window to get some fresh air in here, she saw and heard something coming bearing down at her house at a very high speed. 

                Delia blinked. “Wait, why is this person driving along my—” That was about all she could get out, as the old, shoddy looking car closed the distance to the window in a heartbeat. “Shit!” she shouted, turning to run in the opposite direction. 

                She only got about half a step.

 

* * *

  

                “The hell was that?!” Tracey Sketchit shouted, dropping his pencil, which slipped through the steel grate that made up the observation deck of Professor Oak’s windmill. He made a futile attempt to reach down and grab it, only to look up again when he saw smoke billowing out into the sky, the wind carrying it over the Oak Labs ranch. “Wait…” He looked up to see the smoke dissipating over head in front of him, meaning that it was coming from somewhere behind his current vantage point. He rant to the opposite side of the observation deck, forgetting about his sketchpads and pencils for the time being. 

                His heart started to race. Never mind he knew that explosion didn’t come from the pasture, caused by some Pokémon either sparring or just having it out. This was nothing like that. As he looked over to try and see the source of the blast, he could see some of the Pokémon out in the fields looking over in in that direction as well, shocked by what they heard. The artist squinted, leaning over the railing. And that’s when he saw the fire. It was causing massive columns of dark smoke to usher forth, able to be smelled even from over here. His eyes then caught the sight of an older man with light brown hair and wearing a lab coat suddenly charge out of the front door of his house, looking down the path to the main gates of his property. And that’s when Tracey realized where he was looking. 

                His heart dropped into his stomach. 

                Panicking, Tracey beat a hasty retreat from the windmill, and was running as fast as his legs would take him. He slowed as best he could before clumsily coming to a stop next to him. “Professor!” Tracey shouted. “What the hell was that noise? Did something go…” He looked at Professor Oak, whose horrified gaze was fixed on the main path, down past the gates, and across the town’s main street to… “Oh, no…” 

                “Delia…” Professor Oak said in a daze. 

                “Wait, was Mrs. Ketchum home?” Tracey asked, not entirely wanting to hear the answer. That seemed to shake the professor out of his daze, and the two gazed at each other for a long moment before the silence was broken by another lab assistant sticking his head out the front door.

                 “Professor? Is everything alright?” he asked. 

                “Call the cops! Hurry!” he shouted as he ran down the path to the main gates. Tracey had already taken off, several steps ahead of him the entire way, the professor’s older body not used to much exercise. The anxiety and fear that overtook him wasn’t doing his aging heart any good, either. He was almost out of breath by the time he got to the edge of his property. He managed to catch up to Tracey after a couple more moments, and he froze in place next to him as they both gawked at what they saw. 

                The Ketchum house was ablaze. 

                The entire left side of the house, as well as a good chunk of the front, including the front door, had been completely destroyed, the explosion punching a hole in the house. All the windows were broken, either from the initial explosion, or from the fire engulfing everything in sight. A car had found its way into the hole in the wall, the front 2/3 of it completely scorched, and the bumper and trunk the only parts of it still above ground, having plowed into the house and collapsed the main floor, causing most of the living room and kitchen floors to collapse into the basement. 

                “Mime! Mime!” they heard shouted. 

                Tracey and Professor Oak looked to the right side of the house, in the yard, and saw Mimey, Delia’s Mr. Mime butler Pokémon, getting to his feet, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs. A few moments earlier, he heard the explosion, as he was returning from upstairs to the main living room and getting out the vacuum, but didn’t see the car coming, so all he could do was ball up, wave a hasty Reflect wall around the front of him as he was launched through the opposite window, and crashed into the ground outside, rolling away a few yards before coming to a stop. He took his time getting to his feet, in a lot of pain, but when he recognized the faces of Tracey and the Professor, he ran over as fast as he could. The flailing of limbs and repeated shouts of his name didn’t help calm the two humans down. 

                “What happened here?” the Professor asked after a moment. “Who did this?” Their gazes went back to the car sticking partly out of the wall, the front end down in the basement. They couldn’t get too close, due to the intense heat and the smoke pouring out. He and Tracey coughed and took a few steps back as an errant gust of wind blew some thick, black smoke right at them. They heard a third human voice, a female this time, coughing and talking into a radio. 

                “How did this happen?” Tracey asked. “I mean, just because some asshole drove into her house—” 

                “There’s no way this is natural,” Professor Oak said. “There must’ve been a gas leak, or something like that. The only Pokémon around is Mr. Mime, save for a few random wild Pidgey. And I sincerely doubt they’re capable of this.” 

                “That’s my guess, too,” she said, occasionally firing off confirmations or clarifications into her radio. “This guy was trying to avoid a speeding ticket and took off. Also: just ran the car’s plates a few minutes ago; the car’s stolen.” 

                Tracey didn’t care about that at the moment. “Look, my friend and his mom live here. I don’t know where she was when this happened. She might still be trapped in there!” 

                “Don’t worry, emergency crews are on the way as we speak.” Very faintly, in the distance, they could hear the horns from firetrucks blaring. 

                “Still, I gotta do something!” Tracey shouted, grabbing a Poké Ball. “Marril—huh?” They heard a loud groaning sound, as well as numerous sounds of wood cracking and bending. 

                Jenny reacted first. “MOVE IT!” she bellowed, shoving Tracey into the Professor and forcing them away from the burning house. They stumbled backward, and fell to the ground, Jenny landing atop them. The house, meanwhile, most of its lower supports destroyed or damaged, couldn’t hold up the top half of the house, and everything collapsed into a massive burning pile. 

                “Oh, no…” Tracey said, gawking in shock. 

                “Delia?! Are you in there?!” Professor Oak shouted, just as firefighters and paramedics started showing up. “Delia!” he shouted again, in vain. He doubted he could hear her if she was in there. Or maybe, she was out somewhere and would come home to a completely destroyed house. She’d be homeless, but at the very least alive. But that was wishful thinking at best. Samuel Oak didn’t want to think the worst. But more and more, it was apparent that the worst was happening. Soon, fire hoses and Water-type Pokémon were deployed to quash the burning house. The Professor was led away by Tracey and the Jenny on duty, the old man walking away, feeling a grim detachment from the world around him.

 

* * *

* * *

 

                 Ash was as white as a sheet. His eyes were opened so wide it hurt, and his mouth hung open, his lower jaw quivering, trying to form words. The boy’s legs felt like they were made of gelatin, and it felt like a herculean struggle just to say on his own two feet. “N-no…” he managed to stammer out. “Y-you…” His breath stalled out in his throat, and it hurt to talk. “You’re lying…” 

                “I’m afraid not,” Jenny said. “They found her after several hours cleaning up the debris…” Her expression was solemn, her own heart breaking as she beheld the absolute heartache and anguish displayed on the child’s face. “There was… nothing anyone could do.” 

                Ash’s vision seemed to blur as he listened to Jenny talk. His heart already felt like it was going to burst just listening to her describe the grisly circumstances leading up to it, but to actually learn about it himself… well, he felt like his heart was going to explode. Or just completely shut down. Either or at this point, really. 

                “Mr. Ketchum… I’m so sorry.” 

                Ash didn’t hear what Jenny had said. Hell, he wasn’t hearing much of anything, everything seeming to blend together in a constant, low, monotone droning sound. The edges of his vision got blurry, and the blurriness moved further and further into the center, some colors fading out, while others felt of greater intensity. Dealing with the knowledge he was just presented was wrecking his senses. He staggered away, barely able to walk, his legs threatening to give out on him with every step. He barely heard Pikachu on his shoulder, chirping at him and tugging on his head to try and steer him away from any obstacles in the way. There were few people in the Pokémon Center as it was—mostly employees, so no one who saw his breakdown would think ill of him for his reactions. 

                It wasn’t until he almost unknowingly came within three feet of Brock and Misty that he realized where he was. “Ash…” Brock said in a voice so low he was barely aware he had said anything. He and Misty didn’t hear what she was saying, but they could see Jenny’s actions and Ash’s reactions. Right away they knew it wasn’t anything good. 

                Misty, meanwhile, had one hand holding Togepi, who was starting to feel Ash’s sadness, her other hand held up with one of her knuckles just inches from her mouth. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “What did she say?”

                 Ash’s weary gaze fell to his friends. “M-mom…” he managed to get out. He was unaware that tears were pouring down his face. “My… my home…” His hands shook visibly at his sides. “It… burned down… mom…” He let out a strangled moan. “Mom is…” He took another step forward, and stumbled, tripping over what felt like nothing. “S-she…” As soon as his face landed against his friends’ bodies, he let out a loud, muffled shout, immediately breaking down sobbing. They caught him, and guided him to a nearby bench that no one was using. They moved him in between the two of them. Ash was already hunched over, his face in his hands, clutching at his head tightly, while tears poured out of his eyes and he could do nothing more than let out body wracking sobs. Brock rubbed his back gently, trying his best to remain strong… or at the very least, neutral. He knew Ash had seen him as an older brother, and he, more than ever, would more than likely lean on him for emotional support. Sure, he grieved for the departed Mrs. Ketchum, but he felt it better to keep everything in. For now.

                 Misty, on the other hand, was in a similar state to Ash. She set Togepi down, who sat next to the three of them, a sorrowful expression on his face, feeling all of their negative emotions more intensely now. She leaned on Ash, her left arm against his back, and held her face against her arm, quietly crying as well. Her other hand found Ash’s as it left his face for a moment, and he gripped it tightly, almost until it hurt. But neither of them cared. Misty cared about Delia a lot, as well. She didn’t have a mother of her own growing up, having been “raised” by her three sisters whose concern for her wellbeing was circumspect a lot of times. After going through Kanto with Ash, her feeling developing for him, and getting to see his home and his mother, she had bonded with the kind, caring woman, feeling completely at peace while in her presence. She didn’t even mind when she started treating her and Brock like her own kids—i.e. shouting at them when they were doing anything wrong or bad, and accepting that they’d help around the house while they stayed there.

                 But she was gone. And her only son had nowhere left to go in the world, no home to return to. Pallet may be his home town, but with his home destroyed and Delia Ketchum dead—and it hurt all of them so much to even string that phrase together, even in their heads—there would be a massive void that could never be filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Here it is.
> 
> I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a long time now. I mean going WAY back. To the mid- to late-90s (fuck, I'm old) and writing fanfiction where anime, games, etc. collided with professional wrestling. It was a crazily stupid as it sounds. Anyhow, these three series in particular meshed together well enough in a way that I and the few writers working with me at the time decided to spin them off into their own series. But there was no time travel chicanery or meddling with reality or anything like that. They were just...there. Well, I'm older and wiser(ish) now, and while I've always boasted about being Master of the Written Word, I haven't had much of a thrill in writing much of anything lately. My life kind of went to hell in the past few years or so, and things have only recently gotten "better". Thankfully, with my social media blowing up over NaNoWriMo, I decided to take another crack at that. Heh...imagine my surprise when I saw "fanfiction" was a category they accepted.
> 
> Actually, I'll be splitting my writing efforts between this and another fic that was almost abandoned (well, actually was, since it was YEARS between chapters, the last one ending in the middle of a battle), so hopefully this will keep me motivated throughout not just the month of November, but through the months and years after that, spurring me to keep writing. Positive feedback and positive criticism will also help out. 
> 
> Oh, yes...this chapter sure does start off sad, doesn't it? Yeah; it sucked killing off one of my favorite motherly-type characters (and easily my favorite non-main Pokemon character), but that was a key part of the old "continuity" and now, I can explore the depths someone goes through when they lose a loved one. Happened to me, too, as of June 2016. Expect to see a lot of chapters in 11/2016. As for after that, well...time will tell. Plus, with "only" three series to intermingle here, I'll be able to keep a better lock on who's doing what, and where, despite the robust casts all three series have.
> 
> Also: I'm starting a habit where every title is related to some kind of song or something related to music in someway—maybe a song title or a lyric, but not always. And they may not have any real connection with the chapter itself. I just thought a lyric or title sounded interesting enough to mesh with a key plot point or something of that nature. I think I've been watching too much AMV Hell. You can think of it as a soundtrack, if you like.
> 
> Well, anyhow...enjoy.


	2. Funeral for a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral of Delia Ketchum, and the question as to where would Ash Ketchum go.

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama.

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

He still didn’t want to believe. No one did. 

                Even with more discussion with Officer Jenny after his initial breakdown—some legal stuff he wasn’t in the right mind to pay attention to—Ash didn’t want to believe that his mother was dead and his home was destroyed. The grief was overwhelming, and he didn’t react at all to the news that the car thief who plowed into his house also died from the explosion. An explosion, he learned, was caused by a gas leak. Still, he was deep in the denial stage as he was led to bed—the Nurse Joy giving Ash and his friends a room for the night without any input or objection from them. 

                His time in bed was spent tossing and turning, crying, or just looking up at the ceiling or at the walls. Pikachu was the only real comfort he had, but he suspected that even he was getting tired of it, merely cuddling up against his trainer after being held in his arms for too long. To an already distraught Ash, this felt like he was being abandoned. He couldn’t even talk to any of his friends about his feelings. Misty was just as shocked and devastated as he was, and Brock could only provide a few comforting words, albeit in an almost mechanical tone to them. He was starting to find less and less comfort in their presence. 

                Of course he couldn’t talk about it. Well, he _could_ in practice, but in the last few hours, Ash couldn’t get out more than a handful of words before letting out some kind of cry, whimper, sob, or just overall feeling like the inside of his throat had been thoroughly scoured with a piece of steel wool, or felt like a full-sized Poké Ball had been crammed into his mouth. 

                That first night, he didn’t so much sleep as lay in bed with his eyes closed. Sleep did not come to the newly orphaned boy. 

                The next morning, Ash was still a wreck. He had sat up in bed, his feet on the floor, but spent several long moments with his head hung, looking down at nothing. There was almost no talking as they got their morning routines done. No one was much for conversation. Even worse, Ash would lose himself in his thoughts, a distraught expression almost permanently seared onto his face, the boy needing some prodding either from Misty or Brock to get up and get himself clean. He did, but everything he did that morning was simply going through the motions. He felt like he was floating around in space, watching his body move around, without any input from him in the slightest. 

                It felt like forever since Ash talked, and hearing him put together a full, coherent sentence felt like a miracle. “I have to go back,” he said, his heartbroken gaze going to Brock and Misty. “I have to. I-I don’t want to believe she’s dead. I…” He paused, taking a deep breath, his hands still shaky. “I have to know that she’s really gone…” He closed his eyes, wiping them, feeling tears starting to flow again. “You don’t have to come with me if you want, you can go do whatever, but if I find out this is some kind of—” 

                “Ash…” Brock said, interrupting Ash’s rapid speaking. “We’re coming with you.” 

                “Yeah... we were close to your mom, too,” Misty added, trying to cheer him up, smiling softly at him. “And, well…” 

                “We’re worried about you, Ash…” Brock added. “You’re not exactly in the most proper state of mind right now.” 

                “Gee, what gave it away?” Ash asked ruefully, trying hard not to cry. 

                “I’m serious,” Brock said sternly. He put his hand on Ash’s shoulder, while Ash looked at it nervously. “Look. We’re worried about you. We don’t want to see anything else bad happen to you.” 

                “Brock…” He felt choked up again. “I’ve got nothing left at this point…” 

                “Ash, you still have us,” Misty said, holding his hand with both hands. Her own eyes were red as she looked Ash in the eye. “We’re you’re friends. We don’t want you see you get hurt anymore…” 

                Ash took a few deep breaths. He was trying to calm himself down, but was almost desperate to do so—a paradox that was doing more harm than good. “Th-thanks,” he managed to get out. “Both of you.” 

                “Mr. Ketchum?” a voice came from behind them. All three of them, Pikachu included, turned to see Officer Jenny waiting by the door of the Pokémon Center. “We’ve arranged transport for you back to Pallet Town. This way, please…”

 

* * *

* * *

  

                Four Pidgeot had been waiting outside for them, each with a saddle on their backs. Jenny got on the lead one, while everyone else took up a Pidgeot of their own. Once everyone was settled and buckled in, the Pidgeot took off into the sky. The Jenny had explained to them that they were going to fly to Goldenrod City, where a second set of Pidgeot were waiting for them, and fly the rest of the distance to Pallet Town from there. Throughout both rides, aside from some instructions shouted from Jenny, the travelers were silent. Ash hung onto Pidgeot’s saddle tightly, hunched over, trying not to fall off. He didn’t know if the others were having the same kind of difficult he was having, but the Pidgey was flying confidently with the other four, so it didn’t seem like it would be too bad. Still, his heart pounded heavily in his chest. He’d soon be returning home. 

                Well, “home,” more like. No house, no mother waiting for him, no worldly possession besides the clothes on his back… it was enough to have him start up crying again, his eyes clenching shut as he sniffed loudly, clumsily wiping his face. All of his thoughts were getting jumbled and run together again. Thoughts of how everyone would look at him. How he’d react to seeing his home destroyed. How little he’d able to control himself. Even the thought of kicking off Pidgeot’s saddle and just dropping to the ground, not having to go back to Pallet—or anywhere ever again—briefly burrowed into his mind, his gaze drifting over Pidgeot’s wing to see the ground below… 

                …jump off? Here? Where did that thought come from? 

                He shuddered at the thought. Mostly because the Pidgeot would probably just swoop down and catch him, and he’d get subjected to angry shouting from Misty and Brock the rest of the way there. Just when he thought he couldn’t sink any lower… 

                They didn’t stay long in Goldenrod, just long enough to use the Pokémon Center’s facilities, and get onto another flock of Pidgeot and take flight again. Ash didn’t feel like eating anything, much to the dismay of the others. Not since yesterday—hell, lunch, yesterday, as they were traveling for several hours before finding the Pokémon Center where Ash got the news—had Ash eaten anything. Not from a lack of trying, either; being offered even some light snacks was a bridge too far for him, unable to keep down anything substantial, even forcing the one or two bites he took of a candy bar… only to cough them up minutes later, his stomach too uneasy. He ignored Misty’s pleas to eat something, just flat-out not in the mood to argue with anyone. 

                Then, finally, his entire body trembling with fear and anxiety, the four Pidgeot touched down in Pallet Town, close to the town center. Ash gave a quick thank you to Jenny, barely making eye contact with her, before he hurried down the road towards Oak Labs… and his own house. 

                “Ash, slow down!” Misty called out to him, Ash walking sternly towards Professor Oak’s place, walking down the road in the direction of the big windmill. 

                “Yeah, don’t just blow us off here, Ash!” Brock added. He and Misty were a few yards behind him, while Pikachu clung to his head, his small heart beating quickly as Ash walked with a purpose. Seeing the windmill get closer and closer, Ash’s pace quickened, until he took off in a jog for a few yards or so. He looked to his right side, as his house was across the way from the lab and said lab was on his left-hand side. That’s when he saw it. 

                Rather, he saw what was left of it. 

                The far back corner was the only section of the outer walls still standing. The roof had collapsed, the dark red shingles—their colors faded from the sunlight—spilled out everywhere. The charred husk of a car had been pulled out by a crane, and was currently being loaded up onto a tow truck. Most of what used to be his house was charred, almost unrecognizable. The gardens were wrecked as well, some flowers still blooming, while large chunks of his mom’s flowers were burned up, dried, and drooped over, dropping their petals, and still other parts were damaged by what were presumably highly pressurized blasts of water. Police tape wrapped around the fence, and the remains of the house. Nothing inside that he could see was recognizable. 

                Misty had a hand over her mouth as she surveyed the damage, while Brock simply stared at it, stunned, unable to find the words to describe it. Face to face with a poignant reminder that he no longer had a home, or a family, Ash Ketchum, wide-eyed, gasping for breath, shook with fear, the realization of all of this too much for him to handle. “N-no…” he muttered. “This… this can’t b-be real…” 

                “Ash, I’m so sorry,” Misty managed to get out, also dumbstruck by the realization. 

                Ash turned away, but ran smack into Brock. His face landed against his chest, and he was unable to stop himself from crying again. He held onto him weakly, while he and Misty wrapped their arms around the grieving boy. Even with the tragedy before them, the same thought seemed to linger in all of their heads… 

                Where was Ash going to go from here?

 

* * *

* * *

 

                 The funeral of Delia Ketchum was a gloomy affair. 

                It felt like everyone in town came by to attend the service, coming in varying levels of grief. While it was held at noon, the skies over Pallet Town were gray and overcast; while it didn’t rain, it still left a dreary feeling over everyone, human and Pokémon. Pallet Town may have been small, but Delia—and her son—were fixtures of the community, and her absence would no doubt resonate around the entire town. The service was held on Professor Oak’s lab, as the town lacked a proper funeral home its rather small cemetery was small and composed mostly of old, weathered, partly overgrown headstones. Not that it mattered to Professor Oak, who elected to pay for the service and internment himself. Besides, he had a different plan for Delia’s remains. 

                The main parlor of Oak’s home was where the casket was laid out, the deep, mahogany wood contrasted by the white padding lining the lid and the pale blue blanket draped across the body. The casket and the stand it was on, as well as the end tables on either side, were positively covered in flowers, with some produce here and there, harkening back to her love of gardening. Next to the casket on the left side was a beautiful framed color pencil portrait of Delia, her left profile to the viewer, smiling warmly. It was drawn by Tracey, but he didn’t sign it. Delia’s corpse was dressed in a darker blue dress, with a pink feather wrap around her neck and shoulders. Her hands were folded across her stomach, her right hand over her curled up left hand. In between her index and middle fingers—slipped cleanly in between both hands, no less—was a 100 Zeni coin, harking back to some superstition about paying/bribing for safe passage to the underworld. 

                Although… no one had ever heard of Zeni before today… 

                To the mortician’s credit, he made Delia’s remains look presentable, the makeup exquisite. Getting her body in that state, however, was nearly impossible. Professor Oak had known about the… difficulties in retrieving and restoring Delia to a more presentable state; the explosion charred a big chunk of her hair, and her collarbone, neck, and lower jaw had been crushed when the car drove through and fell on her. To say nothing of the burns elsewhere; they were easy enough to treat and cover. The mortician had proposed the idea of making the funeral closed-casket, but the Professor spared no expense to get her fixed up. Regardless, the decision was made to not tell Ash about this development. He didn’t know how the boy would react to finding out his mother’s body couldn’t be fixed. The only hint of the mortician’s work was barely visible, and one had to be looking for it; Delia’s jaw was subtly more angular, barely noticeable to the average onlooker, the woman’s jaw having been crushed from the crash, and needed to be reconstructed. 

                Speaking of Ash… to the surprise of absolutely nobody, Ash was not taking this day well. 

                Even after he discovered the burned out, destroyed remains of his home, he had been almost completely unresponsive. He walked around in a daze, eyes glazed over and hollow looking, barely responding to any kind of prompts or calls for his attention. Getting him to keep himself clean and dressed properly were major tasks; even getting him to eat something seemed like a Heraclesian labor. Not that he tasted anything going down. And even then, any mention of the funeral, his mom’s death, or even a book of urns haphazardly left out—intended to be kept from Ash in the first place—made waves of nausea wash over him. More than once he found himself hunched over a sink or a toilet, fighting off the urge to vomit. Regardless of whether or not he actually did—the lack of eating just made for a few dry heaves—he was left in a more miserable state than before, reduced to a sobbing wreck. Thankfully, his friends were there to help him through it, with either Brock, Misty, or Tracey calming him down, letting him know that they were there for him. 

                Said friends were standing near him as Ash took his place at the foot of the casket, his Pikachu sitting in his hands, folded at his stomach. Mourners shuffled in, offering their respects to the boy, and the Professor, who was Delia’s oldest friend at this point in her life before she died. Ash, thankfully, had stopped crying. But worse, Ash wasn’t feeling anything. 

                Sure, he would acknowledge he was being talked to, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to say something coherent in return or even keep eye contact for very long. With each passing mourner, Ash’s reactions came fewer and shorter. He had heard the same things all afternoon, and their effect was starting to lessen and lessen. The same expressions of sorrow, the same platitudes of his mom being a good woman, the same promises of praying for him… soon, they sounded like empty words to him, and he barely reacted unless he was prompted to by one of the other kids his age. 

                Speaking of other kids his age… 

                Misty’s sorrowful expression turned into a glare. When Brock saw what she was glaring at, he was about to ask, only to fall silent when he saw who was approaching. Tracey, on the other hand… didn’t have much animosity towards him, and merely saw his uneasiness as he filed in with everyone else. 

                “Ash… I’m so sorry about what happened…” came the voice of Gary Oak. 

                Ash’s head shot up quick enough to suggest he had been electrocuted. Gary stutter-stepped at the look Ash gave him. His eyes may have looked angry and out for blood, but anyone could see that Ash was deeply hurting. His hands shook, causing Pikachu to hop off and climb on his shoulder, looking at Gary cautiously. The gray slacks and black dress shirt Ash had on were Gary’s, loaned out to him due to Ash not having anything other than the clothes on his back (and in his backpack) when he returned home, everything else lost in the fire. 

                Gary tried to keep himself cool, not just from the look Ash was giving him, but the reactions of Brock and Misty. Tracey gave a little shrug, unseen by Ash; they had gotten along just fine while Tracey was helping out around the lab. But Ash was another story altogether. While Gary didn’t welcome his reputation of being a dick, he didn’t exactly dissuade the notion, either. Truth be told, he got a big rise out of antagonizing Ash, loving to see his loud, hammy, over-the-top reactions when he was incensed. But even Gary knew there was a line not to be crossed. And Gary found that out the hard way after one particularly nasty barb aimed as Ash’s mom. Granted, Ash’s reaction at the time started exactly as predicted. But it didn’t conclude that way. Even Gary didn’t want to believe what Ash was doing, and was still laughing at him… right until Ash had tackled him to the ground and started punching him in the face. The broken nose and slight concussion he got as a result made it very clear what set Ash off and what _set Ash off_. Gary never made that mistake again. 

                Although… 

                Even if it was many months ago when that incident occurred, it was resonating in Ash’s disturbed mind. Ash wasn’t exactly in a pleasant mood, and seeing Gary was making his entire body tense up, his heartrate accelerating, his fists clenching up, his breath halting for a moment as he looked Gary over. Inside, though, Ash was torn. He wanted to strangle Gary, choke his ass out, and finish the job… but not here. Not now. He was angry and upset all at once, but more than that… he was tired. Tired of being bogged down in the despair that the last few days brought. Unfortunately, the kid had no idea where to go, how to get better, or even how to properly parse his feelings. 

                And then Gary embraced him. And Ash froze up again. A little strangled sounding gasp came from Ash’s mouth as he was suddenly embraced, drawing shocked looks form Ash’s friends. This was unexpected of Gary. Then again, seeing Gary act humble and reserved like this was a surprise, even for Tracey, who was hanging out with him semi-regularly when he was home. It could’ve been chalked up to the occasion… but the look in Gary’s eyes was one of regret. And contemplation. Ash probably would’ve never recognized it, his poor emotional state or otherwise, but Gary had been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. Seeing Ash in such low spirits meant he had a lot more to think about, as far as he was concerned. 

                “Your mom… didn’t deserve this,” Gary said. “She was amazing. And, well…” Gary let out a dry chuckle. “She was far nicer to me than she had any right to be…” 

                Ash muttered something, but it was mostly unintelligible. His hands returned the embrace after a few moments, his movements stiff and mechanical, as though he didn’t trust Gary to keep this up. The grief-stricken boy’s thoughts were going a mile a minute; part of him wanted to say something nasty so he could be justified in punching his face in. But another part of him knew just what _a scene_ that would make… and how everyone would look at him like he was a crazy person and shout him down and run him out of the home and off the grounds and out of town and— 

                Gary let go of Ash, and paused when he saw the panicked look in his eyes. He looked away for a moment, unaware of the runaway train of bad thoughts going through his rival’s mind. Then patted Ash’s shoulder. “Ash… my grandpa will always be there for you. You know that…” he said solemnly. “Don’t let yourself be brought down too hard, alright?” And he walked away, nodding in acknowledgment of Ash’s friends. Gary was already at the casket, kneeling down on the padded kneeler in front of it, when Ash numbly walked off. 

                As Ash excused himself from the parlor, he failed to notice another set of eyes on him as he moved. Eyes that belonged to a much taller man, about 6’4”, with black hair and eyes, dressed in a brown suit that looked like it was straining to contain a highly muscular form. His own family was with him, a wife about a head shorter than him, dressed in a black Chinese dress, her black hair done up in a bun, with two forelocks hanging on either side of her face, framing it, while her son, about Ash’s age, wore a dark gray suit  and had mid-long length black hair. He saw other kids his own age—before they suddenly ran off, anyhow—and walked with his mother as they approached the casket. The woman and the kid looked down the hallway anxiously, the woman’s face unreadable. As she approached the displayed body, her expression softened, before putting her hands together, her head bowed as she said something quietly over the body. 

                The man had stayed behind, finding an equally dour Professor Oak. “It’s a shame what happened to her,” he said, the Professor looking up at the man speaking to him. 

                “Yes… well,” Professor Oak started, having a little better time keeping his feelings under control. “It makes you feel so… helpless, doesn’t it? I… nobody knows how to react; they would’ve never pictured this happening. And her son…” 

                “I noticed,” the man said. “My wife has been friends with her for a while…” _Apparently…_ “…and she was upset to hear the news, too.” 

                The Professor looked at him cautiously. He could tell the man wasn’t from this town… or from this region altogether. He didn’t know Delia had friends elsewhere. Not like he kept tabs on who she associated with or anything like that. “I’m… sorry,” he started. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Professor Samuel Oak. I run the laboratory in this town, and I house and maintain all my trainers’ Pokémon they catch and send back.” 

                “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of you,” he said. He shook his hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. “The name’s Son Goku. I, uh…” He looked over at the casket again, to see his wife walking away from it and back to him, and then to the Professor again. “I was hoping I could talk to you about Ash for a bit…” 

 

* * *

 

                 Ash barely acknowledged anything his friends said as he walked away, back into one of the other dens of the Oak estate, and finally out one of the side doors. He wound up leaning over a railing, looking out at nothing, head bowed, quietly crying. Pikachu stood on the railing next to him, ears drooped, but still snuggling up to his Trainer. Ash’s body shook with every labored breath he took. 

                “Ash…” Misty called out as she, Brock, and Tracey followed him. “How you holding up?” 

                Ash looked over his shoulder, seeing his friends there, dressed in their own “nice” clothes, but didn’t say anything. He just looked back over the pasture, the “balcony” only a couple feet above the ground. 

                “That was... nice of Gary,” Brock said, looking around cautiously. Knowing Ash’s mood well, he was careful with what he said, lest Ash blow up again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. 

                “I know…” Ash muttered. “It’s just…” 

                “It’s just what?” Tracey asked, hearing Ash trail off. 

                “I don’t know, I…” he stammered. “I just… I-I mean…” Several moments went by when Ash stuttered something out, unable to talk straight. It was getting harder and harder to keep his cool. 

                “Pika pi…” Pikachu cooed, nuzzling his head against Ash’s arm. 

                “Look…” Tracey started again. “I’m sure the Professor will be glad to have you a—” 

                “No he won’t!” Ash blurted out. 

                Everyone else froze up. They didn’t want to say anything, too bothered by Ash’s outburst. The thought was hanging over their heads for a while, and it was only with great reluctance that Misty spoke. “Ash… what do you mean?” 

                “The professor doesn’t want me around. I just know he doesn’t!” 

                Brock shook his head. “Ash, you don’t know that for—” 

                “I heard him myself. Yesterday afternoon.” Tears were pouring down Ash’s face again. He turned away, not wanting his friends to see him like this. His breathing was ragged, and he frantically undid the top button of his dress shirt. He must’ve looked so pathetic to them. “He was talking to someone on the phone. I was just walking by when I heard him. He said…” He felt a huge lump in his throat building up, and barely acknowledged the others approaching him, looking at him, leaning on the railing with him. “He said he… that he…”

 

* * *

 

                 “To be honest with you, I’m a terrible excuse for a father,” Professor Oak said, breathing out through his nose, his gaze averting Goku’s—and Chichi’s, who by now had joined them. “I’ve become so wrapped up in my work that I… at this point, I don’t know how to do anything else…” Oak shook his head. “And the worst thing is I know how bad it’s become. My own wife left me, my son’s marriage broke up because he got too absorbed in his work—and don’t get me started on the divorce, either...” 

                “Bad?” Goku asked, a worried expression on his face. 

                “You have no idea...” He leaned closer to Goku, not wanting anyone else to hear. “The reason I’m raising Gary as it is... well, it’s because both of his parents lost custody of him. Hell, I’m pretty sure their divorce is why Gary’s turning out the way he is…” His gaze went up to the ceiling for a moment, then over to the casket. “As much as I want to, I couldn’t possibly take Ash in. I’ll end up repeating the same mistakes I made with my own son. I may be a great Pokémon researcher, but I’m terrible at everything else. I just… I just wish I would’ve figured this out sooner, when things weren’t as bad…” 

                “Then… who else does he have?” Chichi asked. “Doesn’t he have any other aunts or uncles anywhere?” Professor Oak shook his head. “What about his father?” 

                Professor Oak cringed. And Chichi immediately regretted asking about him. “Left them. Ash was about six years old.” Oak had a sorrowful look on his face, his rapid talking indicating panic more than anything. “If you ever see that man, do not interact with him. Just leave—leave and get as far away from him as you can!” 

                Goku and Chichi looked at one another, surprised by Oak’s reaction. 

                The old man sighed. “Sorry…” he started. “But it’s terrible to think about. The things he did to her, and her son…” Things that led Delia to seek shelter at her house more than one night, her face battered and bruised, the woman shaking visibly. Things that led Ash to spend many more hours than was deemed appropriate playing at his estate, losing himself by playing with other Pokémon… Ash’s love of Pokémon probably came due to immersion and overexposure. To say nothing of escapism from what home was like for him. Briefly he pondered if Ash’s love of Pokémon was exactly that, as if the sounds of Pokémon’s cries and attacks drowned out the shouting inside his own head. But he wasn’t a psychologist, so he could only guess. 

                Goku’s gaze held with Chichi’s for a few moments. “That’s… part of why I wanted to talk to you about him. If there’s no one else, then… why don’t Chichi and I take him in?” 

                Professor Oak blinked, caught off guard by the question. “You…” he stammered. “Are you serious?” 

                Goku nodded. “Sure am,” he said, smiling. “We’d be glad to welcome him in. Right?” 

                Chichi looked at Goku, hesitant. Sure, she had been upset to learn of Delia’s death, and hearing of her son being orphaned—and homeless—didn’t sit well with her in the slightest. But it still meant another mouth to feed and she couldn’t and/or didn’t want to keep relying on welfare or handouts from her father. Relying solely on prize money was another red flag that went up. “Yeah, of course,” Chichi said after a few moments. “The poor thing’s all alone now. And, well… Gohan will have a friend his own age, anyway.” She saw the look Professor Oak gave her. “We kind of live… well, off the grid.” 

                “Yeah, _way_ out in the country,” Goku said with a chuckle. True, his home was located in a part of his home country even more sparsely populated than Pallet Town. It also meant the land was dirt cheap, and heavily wooded. Goku had told Chichi the night before of what he planned to do with the land, and he promised he’d follow through with it. There would still be training, but she had written that off as an inevitability of their… unique lifestyle. It was only after quite a bit of deliberation on her part that she agreed to take Ash in. Only, however, if there was no one else to do so. 

                She legitimately didn’t know of Delia’s nonexistent extended family. And with his father nowhere to be seen and Professor Oak admittedly unqualified to take in another child, the terms were met. 

                “You may have some trouble convincing Ash about it,” Professor Oak said. “He’s not very well off. I doubt you can just go up to him and say, ‘You live with us now,’ and he’ll just go along with it.” 

                Goku shook his head. “No worries. I don’t plan on forcing him to do anything.” He looked at Chichi again. “We’ll talk to him about it, won’t we?” 

                “Yes, but _after_ the service, obviously…” Chichi chided. “Which—oh, look…” She gestured to the front of the parlor, in front of the casket, where a priest had taken up position in front of a podium to the head of the casket’s right side. Everyone was called in, and the three adults took up a seat close to the front.

 

* * *

 

                 The priest had said a few words on the behalf of the deceased, followed by a couple other speakers, chiefly Professor Oak. With the room already bereft of dry eyes, Professor Oak didn’t stop the couple of tears coming as he spoke of his time as Delia’s college instructor, and later as his friend. 

                Ash was eventually led back in when word was given that the service proper was starting. His friends were all in varying degrees of sadness, while Ash had the facial expression of someone who had clocked out a long time ago. His gaze was out in front of him, looking at nothing, his eyes red and raw. He was still somewhat aware, and recognized when mention was made of “her son” or some derivative thereof, but every time he looked up at the speaker, his eyes would be drawn to the sight of his dead mother laid out beside them, and his vision would blur and his gaze would avert almost on reflex. Brock and Misty were by his side, as was Tracey, and surprisingly, so too was Gary. He didn’t react to Gary’s presence, the boy too emotionally worn down to respond. 

                Soon, though, the guests began to file out of the funeral, returning to their own lives. The closing of the lid on Delia’s casket made as shiver of revulsion go through Ash’s body, the finality of it all not something he was prepared to cope with. 

                It was when the casket was being wheeled out onto a hearse in the back lot of the main lab that Ash suddenly became very active. And loud. “Wait, where are you going?” he asked the two men wheeling out the casket. “What—where are you taking her?!” 

                “Relax, kid, we’re taking her back the funeral home,” one of them explained. “For processing.” It was clear he was trying to be professional. 

                “‘Processing’? What…” He then saw Professor Oak walking along with that big guy and his family—he presumed—when he called out to them. He didn’t see the strange man subtly hold his family back, coaxing them in the opposite direction, leaving the Professor to talk with the boy on his own. “Where are they taking mom?” 

                “Ash, please…” Professor Oak said. His tone was stern, but just as elegiac as Ash’s had been. “I need to talk to you about something.” He gestured to one of the couches. “Here, sit down.” 

                Ash looked long and hard at Professor Oak, and only after a few moments did he sit down, his hands shaking. Professor Oak sat next to him, and reached for a leather-bound catalog on the coffee table. “Is that…?” 

                “Yes, this is what I had been looking at a couple days ago,” he said, opening it up. There were all sorts of different urns inside, in a variety of shapes and colors—with more than a few designs based off of the hobbies of the deceased—and prices. Stuck in the pages was a computer printout sheet, of the lower quality standard office paper in comparison to the thicker, parchment-like pages of the catalog. “I had been pondering what to do with your mother after she had passed. I was thinking: she deserves something a little more substantial. Lavender Town is too far away to see her regularly, and the meager little cemetery in Pallet hasn’t seen a new burial in at least twenty years. So I picked out this…” 

                Ash stared blankly at the printout, a glorified receipt. “What is it?” 

                “It’s an urn, of course, but this one’s special,” he explained, motioning to the diagram of the interior of the urn. “See, their ashes go in here…” He then gestured to the top section of the urn, “…and this disc on top contains the little sapling that feeds on the soil, and is nurtured the ashes.” He smiled pleasantly at the boy. “A tree’s going to grow out of this.” 

                Ash looked at the professor, and the diagram in front of him. He took a long moment to respond, but eventually, even for a couple of seconds, a small smile formed on the boy’s face. “That… that’s actually pretty nice,” he said, but spoke slowly and carefully, still not trusting himself to break down crying. Again. 

                “When you were away on your journeys, your mother was always busy… never a wasted motion with her,” Professor Oak told him, tearing up a bit. He paused, wiping his eyes. “She wouldn’t be satisfied with being stuffed in a box and stuffed in the ground. Heh… she would joke that she’d be too busy to be dead…” He let out a dry chuckle. 

                Ash felt a little warmer inside. It helped him cope, if only a little bit. “So, why bring this up with me?” It’s not like Ash had much of a choice in the matter, anyhow. He knew the Professor was paying for everything himself, and he could’ve just said what they were going to do and that would be the end of it. At least, that’s how Ash perceived it… 

                “See, I was hoping we could plant it,” he told him. “Right out in front of the house, where everyone can see it. And look here,” he said, pointing to another part of the printout. “They even let you pick which kind of tree to put in it.” The name of the tree Professor Oak had picked out was “Fraxinus quadrangulata.” Ash stumbled over the definition, but looked up to the older man curiously. “It’s a blue ash tree.” 

                The boy’s gaze widened for a moment. He nodded once, getting the reference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo has been a boon for me, writing-wise. I've been putting out more stuff than I can remember in recent history.
> 
> Yeah, we're still in a dark patch in this chapter, but I can assure you things will brighten up soon. There's going to be plenty of action to look forward to in the future as well, so don't go anywhere.
> 
> Oh, and as for writing the funeral scene...I'm totally drawing from experience on that one...


	3. I Know, Someday, You'll Have a Beautiful Life

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama.

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Son Goku may not have known Delia Ketchum very well, but he could understand the pain her son Ash was going through. During the service, his attention was divided between the speakers and the kids off to the side, the five of them sitting together, comforting Ash. His own son Gohan kept looking in that direction too, occasionally getting an odd look from them, despite the concern in Gohan’s eyes. Seeing kids his own age was one thing, but the despondence and hopelessness that the newly orphaned boy felt was palpable. 

                Goku, more than once, thought about how he got here, and the events leading up to this day. Just as that woman, Sailor Pluto, predicted, Goku’s mastery of the Instant Transmission technique took merely a day Earth’s time after she first appeared, and within a day and a half after, had used it to the point of having no strain on his body or mind, much to the delight of the Yardats who taught him. He remembered, more than once, looking to the night sky on Yardat, trying to guess where Earth was, but was told that he wouldn’t be able to teleport to his home world without a strong enough energy signature to lock on to—similar to the one they felt when Goku first went Super Saiyan. So all he could do was keep practicing his teleports on and around the planet. Until the day came. 

                To his surprise, it wasn’t the voice of Shenron, the Eternal Dragon—the one who appears before those who gather Earth’s seven Dragonballs—that boomed in his head. Instead, it was the voice of Porunga, Dragon of Dreams, and the spirit of the Namekian Dragonballs. Goku’s friends used the two sets of Dragonballs to revive everyone killed by the Saiyans during their battle on Earth, as well as those who had died while fighting Freeza and his men on Namek. With their last Namekian Dragonball wish, they asked for Goku to be revived. Imagine their horror when they learned he was alive. Porunga told him as much, and with his permission, Porunga teleported Goku from Yardat to Earth. The expanse of the universe blew by his vision in the span of less than a second, and when the world stopped and “normalized” in his vision, he was back on earth, underneath Porunga as he faded away, casting the inert Namekian Dragonballs to the wind. 

                Everyone was immediately glad to see him, Hearing Gohan shout out his name and tackle him, embracing him, laughing and crying to see his father back, immediately made the lack of space-training stop being a problem for him. Chichi was glad to see him, as well, looking over him pensively, before she too glomped her husband. Bulma, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, Chiaotzu, Master Roshi… all were unable to hide their joy at the sight of their old friend returned home. Even Piccolo, who was much more subtle in his happiness, and Vegeta, whose way of saying “welcome back” involved bragging that he was going to become Super Saiyan as well, and grow stronger than him, were glad to see him. 

                Goku had looked at his family, an arm around each of them, smiling warmly. Chichi was nuzzled against his chest, while Gohan’s face positively beamed. 

                …was Gohan always this big? He could’ve sworn he was about five years old when he last saw him on Namek. Seeing him taller, stronger, with longer hair felt… off. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was a niggling feeling in the back of his head that there were some things that weren’t making any sense. 

                But hearing Chichi sniffle against his gi and profess her gratitude for being home… well, none of that mattered at the moment.

 

* * *

 

                 That first night home, after Gohan had went to bed and he had drawn a “bath” outside—consisting of him sitting in a repurposed 55-gallon drum, heated by a fire stoked underneath it—Goku saw another vision. Sailor Pluto stood before him in the bath, the Saiyan warrior’s arms resting around the rim of the improvised bathtub, the rest of him under the water. 

                “Welcome home, Goku,” the transparent visage of Sailor Pluto told him. “I am glad to see you have made it home safely. Not as much as your family and friends, obviously. But happy, nevertheless.” 

                Goku shrugged. “You know, I didn’t say you and I couldn’t be friends,” he said with a childish smile. 

                Sailor Pluto’s face softened for a bit. “Yes. Well… let us wait until you meet me—and the rest of the Senshi—in person, first. With you home again, it will be easier for me to contact you. And since you’re closer to me, I do not have to exert my power as much to manifest like this, meaning I won’t have to wait until you are unconscious. So you can expect to see me more often until you come in contact with Sailor Moon.” 

                “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten what you said about her, either,” he said. “I just… recently got home, though. Haven’t had much time to try and find her.” 

                “You must merely be patient in that regard, Goku. Now...” She became businesslike again. “You have done well since we last spoke while you were on Yardat. I saw your mastery of the Instant Transmission technique, and can predict it will become indispensable to you. However, there are more urgent matters to discuss with you at this time…” 

                Goku closed his eyes. “It’s about that kid you showed me, isn’t it…” he asked, not wanting to know the answer. The thought was lingering in the back of his mind since she appeared before him, and when he had a moment to himself, the thought wormed its way into his brain. 

                “As I said… the gears of tragedy have already turned.” She waved her hand, and she created a viewing field in front of him, straight up and down. “These events transpired earlier this day…” In the view before him, rescue workers, both human and Pokémon, were sorting through the debris of a burned down house, and had been for some time, given how a lot of the burned out and destroyed structure had been cleared away, and off to the side. A car had been sticking out of the initial hole, and as it was being pulled up and out of the destroyed house, he could see rescue workers look down at where the car’s smashed front end had been, and cringed at the sight of the body below it. The woman’s skin was burned—heavily, in some areas—part of her hair burned off, and her limbs had contorted in all sorts of directions as they lay limp on the concrete floor. 

                Then, the view shifted—thankfully sparing Goku the grisly image of what happened to her body as the car fell on her—to the boy Pluto told Goku about. He was devastated, and clutching another older boy’s body for support, understandably crying into his chest, while a girl with red hair hugged them both. “Aw, man…” Goku said, a sad look on his face. “Poor guy…” 

                “Her funeral will take place in two days’ time from now,” Pluto explained. “She won’t have a traditional grave; it will be decided to cremate her instead. It may come off as poor taste, but the day of the funeral will be your best opportunity to talk to the boy.” 

                Goku nodded. “I understand,” he said. He sunk his arms into the tub, sighing listlessly. “I just wish I could meet this kid under happier circumstances…” 

                “Things will get better for him, Goku. And your family. As people like to say, it is always darkest before the dawn. Picture this as you, the sun, rising and banishing the omnipresent dark.” And with that, the image of Sailor Pluto faded away. Goku stared at the spot where Pluto had manifested, and after a little while, decided it was time to get out of the tub. He hopped out, and grabbed his towel from off the ground, drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist. He then easily grabbed the repurposed “tub”, and emptied the water out over the fire, dowsing it. 

                Setting the drum off to the side, Goku walked back inside the house, and saw Chichi looking up at him as he entered. He paused at the look on her face, confused. “Hey… Chichi?” he asked. “Is everything alright?” 

                Chichi had been switching through the channels on their modest TV, and saw the news reports about the car that crashed into the side of a house, causing an explosion. Already it was gruesome enough as it was, especially considering Chichi knew right away which house that was. But when the newscaster read through “one dead” almost casually, she knew right away the fate of the woman who lived there. “Goku… did you see this?” she asked, pointing to the screen. The cameramen were shooting the house from all angles, especially the crashed-out initial breach, making sure everyone saw all the debris laying around. “Delia…” 

                “She… died?” Goku asked, feigning ignorance. He didn’t want to tell Chichi that he had been visited by an intergalactic, world-hopping woman in a short skirt with the power to control time. That would be too absurd… especially considering the situation. 

                “Goku, look…” she told him, pointing. “They said the house exploded. That, the fire, the car crushing her… there’s no way she’d live through that…” 

                Goku had already seen the image from Pluto, but thankfully they weren’t going to show anyone pictures of the dead woman’s body. The flash of a “file photo” of the woman smiling confirmed the woman’s fears.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

                That was how Goku and his family wound up on the opposite end of the world, attending Delia Ketchum’s funeral. 

                The service was nice, and no one who spoke had a negative thing to say about the deceased in any form. Goku hung around after everyone had left, the other kids wandering off, and was fully prepared to talk to the kid. Until Professor Oak stopped him. He heard the older man and the kid talk for a little while, as low as he was trying to keep his voice. That little chuckle at the end gave Goku hope that the kid would not be completely stuck in despair. 

                Once Oak left him to his own devices, Goku waited until the kid was by himself. He found him sitting on a bench outside the man’s house, looking over the pasture where his—and other Trainers’, but mostly his—Pokémon hung out, either eating, playing, or otherwise doing their own thing. A wide dirt path ran from the main entrance of the property, passed the house, and up to other buildings on the lot. Ash’s Pokémon didn’t have a care in the world, save for the few that met Mimey once he was introduced to them. Guessing by his actions, and reactions from his other Pokémon, Mimey had told Ash’s Pokémon about what happened, about how Delia was gone and that Ash was his “Trainer” now. The rest of Ash’s Pokémon were sad… for about two minutes. Then one of them let out a shout, which was answered by all the others, and they all ran off somewhere. 

                Ash sighed, his head hanging. He wished he could get over it that quickly. 

                “Wow… these Pokémon are really neat,” came a voice from a few feet away. Ash’s head snapped up and turned in the direction of the voice, and saw a large man in a suit with oddly spiked black hair. He was smiling warmly at him, but respectfully kept his distance. Pikachu’s ears flicked at the sound, looking at the man curiously. 

                Hearing his remark about his Pokémon, Ash gave a little shrug, and slumped against the bench, his left arm against the arm of the bench. Pikachu shifted from being next to Ash to taking a seat on his lap, his back against his Trainer’s stomach. Goku wasn’t entirely being patronizing; Pokémon existed in some form, but they were in much lesser scale than in this world. And Pokémon battling was virtually unheard of where he came from. 

                “You act like you’ve never seen them before…” Ash said in a low tone, still not really trusting himself to speak without losing it. 

                Goku gave a little shrug. “Well, honestly… I haven’t…” 

                That got Ash’s attention now. Regardless of his attitude, or health, or emotional state, talking about anything Pokémon related would always draw Ash Ketchum in. “H-how?” he asked tentatively. “But… they’re all over the place here…” Ash didn’t know anything else in the world, and the thought of someone or something not able to enjoy the wonders of Pokémon seemed like an alien concept to him. Just like how, to Ash… 

                Just like how… 

                “What can I say?” Goku shrugged. “The world you live in is different than mine.” _In more ways than one_. He stuck out his hand to the kid. “By the way, my name is Goku,” he said, grinning at him. 

                Ash saw the outstretched hand, and shook it wearily, not putting much enthusiasm in it—and certainly not as much enthusiasm as this guy was showing—and barely making eye contact with the man. His eyes were about half-open, and glassy. Like he wasn’t really looking at anything at all. “Ash… Ash Ketchum. And this is Pikachu…” 

                “Pi ka,” the mouse Pokémon squeaked, smiling at the larger, seemingly friendly man. 

                “Nice to finally meet you in person.” Goku was still smiling, his warmth and friendliness completely genuine, and not an affront to cheer the grieving boy up. He just hoped said grieving boy knew that. “Say, do you mind if I sit here with you?” 

                Ash shrugged and shifted over. “Sure,” he said. The bench was plenty big enough for both of them, maybe one or more people, but Ash still moved as far as he could away from the stranger, leaning into the arm rest. Goku sat himself down gently, the wooden slats comprising the bench looking a little worse for the wear. He still wasn’t too keen at looking at the man. 

                “You know… I have a son about your age,” Goku said after a little while, leaning over a bit, his elbows resting just above his knees. “I know we don’t have Pokémon where we live like you do here, but… I think he’d really like this stuff. He’s pretty smart; he’s always reading up on—” 

                “Why are you here?” Ash asked, cutting him off. He looked at Goku, and Goku’s smile dropped. Pikachu’s ears drooped at Ash’s remark. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

                Goku let out a soft sigh as he beheld Ash’s face. His words might have spoken of anger and disgust, but his eyes showed something much deeper. “Listen, Ash… I’m really sorry about what happened to your mother. My wife, too, she’s been friends with your mom—” 

                “Yeah, you and half the town,” Ash interjected again, his voice wavering as he felt choked up again. His gaze was still focused on the ground on the other side of the path from him. 

                Goku’s gaze averted for a moment, and ran a hand through his hair. He was going to say something else—not sure of how much impact it would have on Ash given his mental state, but the boy just charged right through all of that. “Besides, it’s perfectly fine! I’m a Pokémon Trainer, after all!” His voice stewed with sarcasm and pain. “That’s what we do, after all! Travel the world! Live off the land! Don’t carry with you anything not of immediate importance! Leave the trappings of civilization behind! Survive, or die, based on the skill and dedication you have with your Pokémon!” On his last word, his composure having worn thin again, Ash hunched over, head in his hands, and sobbed loudly. His ugly sounding crying shook Goku to the core, and he froze up for a moment, not sure of what to do. Sure, these were all valid criticisms of living the lifestyle of a Pokémon Trainer that Ash brought up, but everyone who set foot on a Journey knew that when they signed on for it. 

                Ash paused when he noticed Goku was still sitting next to him. He felt even worse, knowing he had broken down—again—in front of a total stranger. Pikachu was nuzzling his forehead against Ash’s arm, trying to comfort his Trainer, or at least calm him down. His hand caressing the short, yellow hair on his back was a good start. “Ash… you don’t have to hold back for my sake,” Goku said. “Just… get out what you need to…” 

                Ash was all too happy to do just that. “I don’t have… _anything_ left,” he continued, his voice harsh and strangled by sobs. His back hit the back of the bench, the wooden slats straining a little, his gaze cast upward at the overcast sky. “No home, no family, only a couple friends my age—but they can’t take care of me! H-half the time we can barely take care of each other!” He sniffed loudly. “A-a-and the Professor, he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore! Like I’m just there, or would be a burden for everyone around!” 

                Goku leaned back against the bench, his hands folded on his lap, letting the boy vent. “Well, what about your father?” he asked innocently. “Isn’t he around anywhere?” 

                Ash froze. He slowly straightened up, but his wide-eyed gaze was still focused on the nothing in front of him. The very mention of his father—not even his name, but just the very title—filled Ash with an overwhelming sense of dread. His right hand came up to his collar, and Goku saw his hand shaking uncontrollably. The kid tugged at it, pulling sharply, the top button popping off and falling to the grass at their feet. His breathing was halting and uneasy. “N-n-never…” he stammered, his left hand holding onto the arm of the bench with a death grip, his right hand tearing through his hair. “I would rather d-die than have anything to do with that bastard again…” 

                “Pika…!” Pikachu growled, having hopped off his lap, standing on his hind legs, and glared at Goku, little sparks of electricity dancing on his little red cheeks. Pikachu knew very much about how Ash felt about his father, having listened to his rambling and venting late at night, with no one else hearing him but the little yellow Pokémon. Goku put his hands up defensively, and after a while, the electricity died off. Pikachu had accepted that Goku didn’t know any better than to bring up Ash’s father, so he would let him off easy… for now. 

                An uneasy silence hung over them, the sounds of Ash’s panicked, ragged breathing permeating their conversation. “I’m sorry to hear that…” Goku said after a moment. He had an idea as to why Ash felt like that, but he wasn’t about to bring up the what, the when, and the where about it. “I can understand why you’d feel like that. But Ash… could you look at me, please?” It took a good, long couple of moments, but Ash did, the anger and disgust in his words belied by the sorrow and anguish in his eyes. “Listen, Ash… I talked to the professor, earlier today. Do you know what he told me?” 

                Ash shook his head. He could feel his anger dissipating, but replaced with embarrassment. “What did he say?” 

                “He said he’s not cut out to be a father anymore. That he’s screwed up too much in the past to even consider taking in someone else’s child.” 

                “But what about Gary? His grandson—” 

                “That’s… that’s a special case,” Goku said, his eyes shifting around a moment before looking at Ash again. “Anyway, he also said that you wouldn’t be happy living with him, even if you were out in the world most of the time anyhow. And that you need something more substantial that what he can provide.” 

                “And that is?” Ash still felt his face burning hot as he listened to Goku speak. 

                “A family. Not just a mom, or a grandparent, but a full, loving family. Ash, you’re a really good kid, and you don’t deserve to be sent to… whatever they do with orphaned kids in this part of the world.” 

                “Is there a point to this?” As upset as he was, Ash was starting to get annoyed. 

                Goku’s tone became more serious. “Listen. I don’t know where you’ll end up any more than you do if you choose to stay. For all we know, your father could walk through the door and demand to see his son again.” He didn’t want to bring it up, but he did have a point. And seeing Ash’s body suddenly stiffening, his gaze drifting and looking at nothing and Pikachu looking like he’d electrocute everything within a mile of the two of them told him that Ash wasn’t too thrilled with that prospect, either. “So I want you to come live with me and my family.” 

                Ash paused. Pikachu’s electricity instantly stopped, his own jaw slackened as he looked at the man. His gaze slowly turned to meet Goku’s. Now the boy was… confused. “What?” he asked, unsure of what he just heard. “Live… with you?” 

                “Yep. I want you to live with us.” He smiled warmly at him. “You won’t have to worry about going hungry or not having a roof over your head. And we’ll definitely make sure your actual father will never touch you. We’ll make sure you get the best education possible. My wife and I will take care of you and raise you as our own.” He held out his hand to Ash. “But ultimately, it’s up to you, Ash. I won’t force your decision one way or another. I want you to at least just consider this course of action. What do you say?” 

                Ash’s gaze went from Goku’s face to his hand. This man was a stranger, and he only had one or two memories of Chichi from before today, faint as they were. Something about unnaturally blackened skies and intense cold… It was all so fuzzy to him that he couldn’t properly call it to mind. “Y-you won’t… be mean to me?” he asked. He winced a little, already regretting asking it. 

                Goku’s eyebrows bunched together as he pondered Ash’s question. “Well, ‘mean’ is subjective, I guess,” he said. “I mean, we’re not going to let you get away with everything, obviously. But it’s not going to be a, ‘My day sucks; time to take it out on my wife and/or kids!’ kind of deal. We’re not exactly tyrants.” He chuckled. “Just ask some of my friends; they’ll tell you I’m the farthest thing from it.” 

                “That’s, good, then…” Ash fidgeted a little. “I guess... what I meant to say was my dad was… mean…” His words were faltering, trying to phrase them in a way that dug up the least amount of negative feelings. “To me, to mom… he almost always had a really bad temper, shouting down me or mom, just because—” 

                “What? No, of course not! Nothing like that!” Goku said, a little disturbed. He didn’t want to think about why “will dad hurt me” was at the forefront of his mind. “We’d never do that! What kind of parents make their kids live in fear of them?” 

                Ash felt his entire body shudder, as though he was holding back the urge to just go on a ranting, raving tangent. Instead he took a shuddering breath, and looked at him. “You guys… don’t live around here, do you?” 

                Goku shook his head. “No, we’re… honestly, we’re on the whole other side of the planet from here,” he explained. He suddenly got brighter and cheerier. “It’s also out in the country. It’s… a small town, like this one. Very beautiful; I think you’d like it, anyhow!” 

                He took some time to think this through, Goku still sitting next to him on that bench. On the one hand, being on “the whole other side of the planet from here” meant he’d be away from the friends he made on his Journeys. Away from Brock. Away from Tracey. Away from… Misty. Sure, he’d be able to keep in contact with them over the phone or what have you—hopefully—and there was little to no Pokémon related activity at their place. Chances are interest could blow up in it, of course, but it could just as easily not. And what kind of people were they? Sure, Goku seemed nice, and Ash wasn’t feeling any red flags going up just sitting here and talking to him. His deceased mother trusted his wife, so there was that. But why does he have only the scantest of memories of meeting her? Why does he recall unnatural cold and darkness when thinking of his mom and—Chichi, was her name?—meeting together? There were some things that weren’t entirely adding up. 

                On the other hand… his actual father… 

                “I’ll do it,” Ash said quickly, his voice wavering a little. Pikachu’s head craned back, looking up at his Trainer. Only the slightest suggestion of the opposite was enough to convince the boy. 

                Goku was about to speak again, until Ash answered him. He looked at him, meeting the boy’s apprehensive gaze. “You will?” Goku asked, his smile growing. “You’re certain about this? Because I want you to be absolutely sure you want to come with us.” 

                Gulping softly, Ash nodded. “Yes… I-I want to—” 

                “I want you to say it firmly. Confidently.” Goku put on a determined look, but was still smiling at him. “Put your conviction into it. Let there be no room for doubt in your mind…” His voice was firm, but no trace of malice or ill will anywhere. 

                It took Ash a moment to get himself psyched up to say it, but eventually… “I’ll do it. I want to come live with you,” he said as sternly as he could manage. 

                Hearing this, Goku stood up, prompting Ash to do the same. He did, but as he looked up at him, he felt anxious again. Goku was much larger than him, and from what he could tell the way his arms bulged under his suit jacket, very muscular, and much stronger than him. Already he could feel his fight-or-flight instinct start to well up… 

                …and then Goku, still smiling, hugged him, surprising Ash. “I’m so happy you’ve agreed to be my son, Ash,” he said warmly. 

                Ash didn’t know what to say. “S-sure, no problem,” he answered eventually, awkwardly hugging back. 

                Goku let go of the hug and straightened up. His head turned as he heard someone calling out to him. “Goku? You out here?” a woman’s voice called. 

                “Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Goku responded. He looked to Ash and smiled. “Here, come with me,” he beckoned, already walking towards the sound. It took Ash a second to follow, his mind still overwhelmed with what he just agreed to. Goku led Ash to the patio above and behind where the bench was, and a woman, the source of the voice, was there, with that kid Ash saw maybe once earlier. “Ash, I’d like you to meet my wife, Chichi.” 

                “Hey,” Ash said with a small wave. His anxiety and unrest wouldn’t leave him. 

                “So you agreed, huh?” Chichi asked, to which Ash nodded. She suddenly hugged the boy. “Ash… I’m so happy. I promise we’ll take good care of you. Your mom wouldn’t want you out in the world by yourself.” 

                “Well…” he said with a wince, surprised at the strength of her arms. “I had my friends with me, during my Journeys…” 

                “You know what I meant.” She let go and smiled at him. 

                “And this is my son, Gohan,” Goku said. 

                “Hey, I’m Gohan,” the boy said with a small smile, getting an acknowledging nod in response, Ash not trusting his voice. 

                The two boys looked at each other curiously. Indeed, Gohan was about the same age as Ash, though Gohan had a similarly muscular build, albeit proportional for his height, and was an inch or two shorter than Ash. Gohan had a curious look on his face as he looked at the other boy, whom he would now get to call brother. He only heard a little bit about him, from talking with the other kids at the funeral. He had listened intently, but they could tell they were hiding the more embarrassing stories about him. No need to kick him when he was down, apparently. Besides, Gohan would want to hear those accounts straight from the source; there could’ve been some embellishing, to say the least, hearing them from others. 

                Still, from Gohan’s perspective, Ash already had a reputation of being kind and peaceful, but also brave and headstrong, given the stories his friends told about him rushing headlong into enemies stronger than he, without any regard for his own safety, and his Pokémon following his orders without question or hesitation, and using techniques that should’ve been mechanically impossible. Lots of dropped jaws in his wake, from what he heard, with the most common and egregious moments being of his Pikachu’s electricity doing damage to earthen Pokémon—wait they were called “types,” weren’t they? So… Ground-type, then?—despite having what should’ve been an immunity to them. But he also, almost always, stopped to help those in need, not for any kind of recognition or reward, but because they needed help. 

                And to think, Ash did all that without martial arts training, without being able to fly on his own, without shooting energy out of his hands, without Saiyan blood in him. 

                “So…” Gohan started, his gaze going back out to the field on the opposite side of the path. “Those… Pokémon out there… are they all yours?” he asked. Like his dad, he wasn’t patronizing Ash; he was legitimately curious about these fantastic creatures. 

                Ash perked up, like a switch had been turned on in his head. “No… not all of them,” he said. He looked out at the field, seeing a few of his Pokémon lounging about. “I’m not the only Trainer who started in Pallet Town. And Professor Oak houses not just my Pokémon, but those of other Trainers, especially those who he gave starters to.” 

                “Starters…” He saw Pikachu perk up on his shoulder, folding his arms with a grin, feeding again off his Trainer’s newfound confidence. “What, do they just give you a Pokémon when you go on a Journey?” 

                “Yep!” Pikachu nodded and pointed at himself with his little thumb. 

                “And I’m guessing he was your starter?” 

                “Pikachu!” Pikachu answered. 

                “Yeah, funny story about that. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime…” Ash said, rubbing the back of his head nervously. 

                “Alright…” Gohan could tell it was awkward for Ash to talk about it. “So… can I see them?” 

                “Sure, come on!” Ash said, taking off and running out towards the field with his other Pokémon, his Pikachu hopping off and running with him as well. Gohan was a couple of steps behind; he was easily able to catch up to him, but just let him lead him for a bit.

 

* * *

 

                 Back up on the patio, Professor Oak had stepped out and joined Goku and Chichi, looking out at the two boys. He was delighted to hear something joyful come from Ash’s mouth, and in typical Ash fashion, it was related to Pokémon. “So, what did he say?” Professor Oak asked. 

                Goku and Chichi turned to the Professor. “He agreed,” he said. “He’s willing to come live with us.” 

                The Professor embraced the two of them, an arm around each. “Thank you… thank you so much,” he said, sniffing loudly. 

                “Is he always like this?” Chichi asked. “His mood shifted rather abruptly…” 

                Professor Oak let go of them. “Getting Ash talking about Pokémon always does that,” he explained. “I know right now it seems like escapism, but nothing in this life has made him happier.” He cleared his throat after a moment. “The paperwork to finalize the adoption will take some time. With no legal guardians anywhere, it’s just gonna tie up more resources and time getting them filed.” 

                Goku nodded. “That’s fine,” he said. “He’ll be in good hands in the meantime.” 

                “Do you want us to leave now? Or…” Chichi started, before Professor Oak waved her off. 

                “No. The funeral home still needs to… process… the remains,” he said, trying to downplay the macabre process of cremation that the funeral home used—namely a team of Arcanine blasting the body with Overheat until there were only ashes remaining. It was quicker than the conventional methods, at least. “Tomorrow, at noon, we’re going to plant the thing. Just Ash, me, a few of his friends…” 

                “And his new parents,” Goku said with a grin, Oak following suit.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

                 _The ashes should be back by then. And we can go along with laying Delia to rest…_

                Sure enough, at around noon the next day, the completed urn was returned to Professor Oak. He had been assured that Delia’s body was respectfully taken, cremated, and placed in the urn. The seed and the soil mix that would help it establish once it was in the ground were on top of the ashes, the entire thing sealed up. The Professor had told Ash the tree, a fraxinus quadrangulata—blue ash—would grow very well in this environment, with this climate. Ash had figured the pun related to its and his name had something to do with it. Not that he minded. 

                The clouds had parted enough to let a few rays of light in, with one shining on the burial site and the people gathered around it. A hole had been dug about ten yards from the path opposite the main house, just large enough for the urn to fit inside. The entire urn was biodegradable, so all they needed to do was put it in the hole and fill it in. Ash was tasked with doing so, the boy holding the urn and trying to keep his breathing under control. The Professor, his other traveling companions, Gary, and his new family—it still felt so weird thinking of them like that—were gathered to say their last goodbyes. 

                Back in his normal clothes, which had been laundered and laid out for him earlier, Ash knelt in front of the hole dug for the urn. He set the urn down inside, making sure it was upright, making sure that there would be the right amount of space at the top. Satisfied, he started pushing the tilled soil around it into the hole, occasionally packing it down a couple times in between fillings. Soon, he pushed the last of the soil atop the filled in hole, pressing it down with his hands, flattening it, effectively sealing up the final resting place of his mother. 

                He stood up, and took a couple steps back, looking over the flattened, tilled soil. A miniature picket fence had been placed around the hole; eight sections forming an octagon, with one of them removed so Ash could set the urn down unimpeded; it would be replaced when everyone had left. Straddling the back section of the fence was an easel that held the drawing of Delia from the funeral. Ash held his hands down in front of him, holding his hat in his hands. 

                “Mom…” he said tentatively. “Goodbye…” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get over this… I would’ve never in a million years imagined this happening… to anyone, much less you.” He could feel his eyes start to sting. “I know you must’ve missed me every single day I was Journeying, huh?” He looked at the burial site, then the portrait. “I… I had missed you, too. All I could think about was battling and getting stronger and winning everything that I came across. But…” He sniffed loudly. “I didn’t. I always said I’d keep trying and pushing myself harder. I just wanted you to see me win at least one more big one. To see me become a Master…” His cheeks became streaked with tears again. “As much as I had bragged about it day in and day out, you’d think it was a given, huh? I… I h-hope you were proud of me, m-mom… because I’ve felt like such a screw-up…” His voice broke as he turned away, bumping into Gohan, who embraced him without hesitation, comforting Ash as he cried. 

                “It’s okay, brother,” Gohan said to him quietly. Ash’s hugged him back, one hand holding his bunched up hat. 

                “Your mother was a saint, Ash,” Chichi said after a few moments, others grieving in their own way. “She didn’t have any doubt about you for even a second.” She smiled at him when he looked up, letting go of Gohan. “She’d be very proud of you."

 

* * *

 

                 Sundown had come, and Goku stood with his wife, son, and adopted son at the front door to Professor Oak’s house. The time had finally come to part ways. 

                “Well, this is it,” Ash said. He had hugged his friends one last time, and had been squeezed extra hard by both the Professor and Misty, who was not taking Ash’s departure well. “I have to go now…” 

                “Just promise me you’ll keep in touch, Ash,” Professor Oak said. “Not just with me, but with your friends, too…” 

                “Of course,” he said. He looked at his friends. “All of you. I promise.” 

                It was hell having to let go, but he eventually did, and stepped back. Goku was beaming as Ash walked over, Chichi and Gohan having encouraging smiles on their faces. 

                “Oh, and Ash?” They stopped as Professor Oak called out to them again. “I’m going to send one of my technicians out to your place; I want to set up your own Pokémon transfer station. So you won’t be too far away from your Pokémon.” Only Pikachu was with Ash currently, hanging on his left shoulder, while the Professor agreed to take in the rest of Ash’s Pokémon until he was of a better state of mind. 

                “I really appreciate that, professor,” Ash answered. 

                “Just as long as they don’t tear up the house, it’ll be fine,” Chichi added. She knew the basics, that Pokémon were stored in little Poké Balls, with Pikachu being an exception. But suffice to say, Pokémon related stuff would most definitely be classified as “not in the house!”. 

                Goku smiled, and extended his left hand. “Ready?” he asked. Chichi put her hand in her husband’s, while Gohan held onto his father’s wrist. The half-Saiyan looked at Ash, then motioned to their joined hands with his head, and Ash soon put his hand over top his new parents’ joined hands. He rose his right hand and put his first two fingers against his forehead, right between his eyes. “See ya later!” 

                A high-pitched _fwoosh_ was heard. And the four were gone.

 

* * *

* * *

 

                Ash saw the entire world pull straight up and blend together into one massive blur faster than he could blink. When the world righted itself, he staggered, suddenly feeling really dizzy. He looked around, and saw he was standing in front of a white building that looked like a sphere cut in half and plopped on the ground, the kanji for “Fortune” on two of the walls that he could see. Attached to its right was a similarly sized building, roughly shaped like a “normal” house, with brown roofs and white walls. Behind that was a larger building as wide as the two in front of it, and tall enough so its roof loomed over both of them. Some distance away was a dirt path leading up to a small white building with a blue, single story pagoda-style roof. The sun was rising above the horizon to greet the new day. 

                “Ugh…I’ll never get used to that,” Chichi said, a hand to her head. 

                “What’s going on? Where are we?” Ash asked, starting to panic. “And what happened?” 

                “Oh. I teleported everyone,” Goku said without a care in the world. Ash gawked at him, stunned. “Ancient martial arts secret,” he added, chuckling playfully. “Anyway, this…” Goku spread his arms out, gesturing to the house, the pagoda, and the expanse of grassy plains behind him, dotted with trees and the odd hill sticking up. “…is where we live.” He beamed as he looked at Ash. “Welcome home…my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like "Ten" to get you in a writing mood.
> 
> Hoo boy...this chapter was a doozy.
> 
> And what a way to whiplash back and forth. I go from adult!Ash getting laid in my other NaNoWriMo effort, to having lost everything and being made to start over from nothing in this one. It's very jarring, to say the least.
> 
> And...I might have been drawing from personal experience when writing about saying goodbye to a deceased loved one. Listening to the titular track from "Undertale" didn't help matters.
> 
> Regardless, this'll be the last chapter dealing with Delia's death. Next chapter, the action begins to pick up. Plus, I'm going to get the Senshi involved in this. In regards to the movies (this applies to the movies in each franchise), I'm going to be working them into the plot of this story with varying levels of importance. Some may be mentioned only in passing, some may have other characters drop in and shanghai the plot. I've already alluded to one DBZ movie already.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy.


	4. You, with the Wide Eyes, Don't Lose Your Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three worlds finally collide...

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama.

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

 

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                The main door of Goku’s home was a brilliant shade of red, with the kanji for “Life” written in white inside a blue diamond, also outlined in white. Goku unlocked and pushed open the door to the house and ushered everyone inside. Everyone else acted naturally as they came in through the living room, but Ash’s first steps into his new home were hesitant, and unsure. He subconsciously kept close to one of the other individuals in the house, not knowing where anything is, and not wanting to end up snooping or going into places he shouldn’t be going into. He was worried, but so far… things seemed normal. Everything was neat and tidy, but how much of that was what their house was normally like and how much was to show that they weren’t slobs had yet to be ascertained.

                Still, the place looked… really nice.

                They all had their shoes off at the door, but none of them wore house slippers inside, preferring to go barefoot. Chichi had excused herself to go to the kitchen, immediately going over to the phone. Before Ash could ask—her or Goku—what she was doing, Goku stopped the two boys. “So. Want me to show you around?” Goku asked, smiling.

                “Um… sure,” Ash said, tugging one of the straps on his backpack, his gloved hand clutching it tightly still.  

                “Well, this is the living room, of course,” he started, a royal blue sofa facing a modest TV set, a couple other chairs next to it, separated by end tables. “That’s the kitchen over there—” Sensing someone was looking in her direction, Chichi waved her hand at them, more to say “I’m on the phone” than as a greeting. Shrugging, Goku nudged Ash along, encouraging him to let her be. Gohan was a step behind them, gauging Ash’s reactions, while occasionally getting a curious look from Pikachu. Goku saw Ash looking enquiringly at a door that was only mostly closed. “Oh, that’s the bathroom,” he said, nudging it open. A shower stall was against the far corner, with a smaller tub next to it. The toilet was out of sight from the door. 

                “And yet he prefers bathing outside in a repurposed oil drum,” Gohan said to Ash, getting an odd look from the latter.

                “Hey, that’s only because the fire under it feels nice. Gets it nice and hot, too.” 

                Ash gawked. “Wait… wouldn’t that make it boil?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it… I dunno, cook you or something?” 

                Goku shrugged. “I’m used to it,” he said with a chuckle. “Plus I know how much wood to add to keep it from getting too hot.” He led them to two doors at the end of the hall. Ash’s gaze went to the one on the left first. “That’s our bedroom,” he said. He nudged Gohan’s bedroom door open, and Gohan went inside. “And… this is your bedroom.” 

                Ash stepped in a moment later and looked around. The room was big, easily as big as his old bedroom, if not bigger. The window was fairly large as well, letting in plenty of light, the window treated with beautiful, ornate latticework, complicated patterns that formed perfect “squares” that marked out each section of the window. Pikachu was taken by it immediately, hopping off Ash’s shoulder and gazing out, looking at the vast expanses of grasslands, with trees out in the distance. The wall by the door was taken up by Gohan’s modest desk, and a bookshelf that was almost as high as the ceiling… and every inch of shelving space—both on it and Gohan’s desk—was taken up by books of all colors and sizes. Ash paused as he looked at the shelves. Other than the bureau, closet with Gohan’s clothes in it, and his bed, Gohan’s room seemed like that of a “normal” ten-year-old, with a few posters up on the wall and other things that Ash couldn’t immediately identify. 

                “You, uh…” Ash started, at a loss for words. “You certainly do like to read, don’t you?” 

                “Yeah,” Gohan said, sitting down at his desk. “Mom tends to be pretty stringent about me studying a lot of the time…” He saw Ash lingering by the bed, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. He saw Gohan nod, and Ash sat down on the bed, his gaze going to it after a few moments. “I mean, they’re all really interesting subjects, but…” 

                “She does kind of go overboard sometimes,” Goku admitted with a nervous chuckle. He saw Ash sitting on the bed, his smile slipping. “I think you might have outgrown your bed by now, Gohan…” 

                Gohan had pulled down one of the books off the shelf above his desk, and was idly looking through it when he heard his father’s remark. “What do you mean—oh…” Just as he was about to respond, he saw Ash shift so he was laying on the bed, testing it. His head was on the pillows, but his feet and his ankles were hanging off the end of it. 

                Goku simply shrugged. “Oh well, just one more thing we’ll have to pick up, is all,” he said with a smile. “I mean, you’ve must’ve kicked the covers out of place a bunch of times, huh, Gohan?” 

                Gohan tapped a pencil against a piece of paper on his desk. “That’s not _in_ correct…” he said, his gaze shifting to the window, where he saw Pikachu walking along the windowsill, still enjoying the view. Tentatively, Gohan reached out a hand, causing Pikachu to pause as he saw it coming towards him. The little yellow mouse Pokémon’s gaze met Gohan’s, and seeing there was no ill intentions, leaned towards his hand and allowed him to pet him. Pikachu, after being rubbed where his neck met his shoulder, cooed in delight, his eyes closing as he leaned into the petting. 

                Ash had by now sat up, his feet on the hardwood floor as he watched Pikachu warm up to Gohan. “He likes you,” he said, a cautious smile on his face. “It usually takes him a while to warm up to new people.” 

                “Boys!” Chichi called out. “Come on, I’m getting breakfast ready!” 

                Goku, Gohan, and Ash looked towards the bedroom door. Ash stole a glance at a clock hanging above the door, showing that it was a little after 7 AM. “Oh, right… the time zone difference…” he muttered. Because he was on the other side of the world. Twelve hours away… yet Goku managed to clear that distance in a heartbeat. A wave of dizziness passed over him, and he leaned against the windowsill as he stood to maintain his balance. Remembering why he was here made him think about what had transpired in the last few days… and his hurt mood was washing over him again. His eyes were shut tight, trying to keep from crying. There was no way he could lose it here… not a few hours after being taken in. They’ll think he’s weak. They’ll think he’s pathetic. They’ll think he’s— 

                “Come on, son,” Goku said, smiling at him, his hand rubbing Ash’s back. “You’ll feel better after you get something to eat in you.” His grin widened. “Chichi’s a great cook, too. You’ll love it!” 

                Ash nodded, still a little hesitant. “Sure, okay…” he managed to get out, following behind Goku and Gohan, his pace a little slower. He paused as he got to the threshold where the kitchen and living room met. 

                Chichi had been cooking up a storm, with every burner on the stove going at once, pans on each burner, the the smells coming off the meats, eggs, and confections cooking filling the air. They could’ve smelled what she was cooking anywhere in the house, and Gohan and especially Goku might as well have been floating to the kitchen as though they were dragged by their noses. Every bit of counter space had some kind of bowl or board on it, every square inch used to prepare something. The kitchen table was simple and wooden, and square shaped. Almost every square inch of tabletop space had been filled with all sorts of food she had prepared in the meantime, an array of plates and bowls in front of each chair. 

                All… three of them. 

                Ash paused as he looked at the table, distracted from Chichi’s quick movements around the kitchen. Everyone else had a seat at the table. But what about…? 

                Chichi saw the other three enter the kitchen, turning to meet them. “Good, you’re just in time,” she said. “You boys grab a seat and—oh. Duh.” She tapped the side of her head with her palm. “Gohan, go get your chair from your desk, please?” Gohan nodded, and ran back to his bedroom without having to be asked twice. “Sorry, Ash. Ugh…I can’t believe I forgot about that until just this minute.” 

                “It’s alright… really,” Ash said hesitantly. 

                Goku had already sat down, and he nudged the chair to his right out from the table. “Go on, have a seat,” he encouraged, noticing Ash’s doubtful look. He sat down in it, nudging the chair closer so he was comfortable at the table. Gohan, by now, had returned with his desk chair in hand, and put it down opposite Ash and sat in it, seemingly in one motion. Ash looked around, unsure of what to make of all this. He passed a hand through his hair, dislodging his cap… and let out a gasp of panic as he remembered he was wearing it while eating. His hand moved in a blur as he snatched his hat off and all but spiked it into the floor by his chair. 

                “Pi!” he heard, and glanced down to see Pikachu having taken a step back. Ash looked down, panicked, seeing Pikachu’s worried expression. 

                “I’m sorry, buddy… I didn’t see you there,” he said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his heart rate. He looked over at Chichi, who was still cooking, her back to the table. Whatever she was cooking was jumping up and down in the pan she was using, expertly working the pan with one hand and a spatula in the other. She turned her head as she heard Ash talking to his Pokémon, the little yellow mouse having a similar expression to his Trainer. 

                “Alright, you don’t have to look at me like that,” she said. “Come here, I’ll give you something.” Pikachu smiled as he scampered over, his nails making little clicks on the tiled floor. “So what do they normally eat?” 

                “Um… fruits, I think, mostly…” Ash said, rubbing his head. “Of course Pikachu will eat just about anything, really…” 

                Nodding, Chichi looked around the counter. “Well… I got a few bananas here,” she started looking at a bunch of them hanging from a small, curved metal stand. “I don’t know how much you eat but—GAH!” Chichi jumped back in surprise when she saw Pikachu up on the counter, looking at said bananas. He pulled the banana closest to him off the bunch, and worked on getting the peel open. “Pikachu, what the hell?!” Pikachu looked shocked at Chichi’s gasp, but her reaction to seeing him up there made him giggle. He suddenly knew of so many ways to play with this newfound information… 

                “Come on, Pikachu, get down from there,” Ash called. Pikachu nodded, and smoothly landed on his hind legs, and walked over to the table with everyone else, banana in hand. The stalk broke at an odd angle as he tried to open it, making Pikachu grouse in disgust, and Ash, seeing Pikachu try to get it down, pulled it down for him. “That better?” 

                “Pika!” he said, happily munching on it. 

                Chichi, meanwhile, set the last of the expansive breakfast down, and Goku and Gohan started digging in. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, fruit, rice… all kinds of food was served up and—especially in the case of Goku—wolfed down hurriedly. Chopsticks clinked rapidly against plates and bowls as Goku and Gohan ate. Chichi was a little more reserved, as she didn’t have the capacity for consumption that her Saiyan husband and half-Saiyan son had. 

                Ash, on the other hand, was another story… 

                “So, who were you talking to earlier?” Goku asked, swallowing his food before talking, much to Chichi’s relief. 

                “I called my dad,” she explained. “I gave him the short version of what was going on. He said he’ll be over in a little while to help.” 

                Gohan beamed. “Aw, cool! Grandpa’s coming over?” Gohan asked, before drinking some of his orange juice. 

                Chichi nodded, smiling. “Yep. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see everyone again.” 

                “He loves coming over here. Guess he can’t get enough of his son-in-law, huh?” Goku responded, a big, dopey grin on his face. 

                “Oh, and what does that his daughter and his grandson?” Chichi paused. “Zuh.” She pointed back and forth to Ash and Gohan. “Grandson _s_.” She made sure to emphasize the plurality of the word the second time. 

                “Come on, Chichi. I’m enthralling.” 

                “Cult leaders are enthralling, too,” Chichi retorted with a grumble, causing Goku to stick his tongue out at her briefly. Gohan laughed at the display, stopping to eat another bite. 

                Goku put a hand up, but his head tilted to the side as he swallowed another syrup heavy bite of his pancakes. “That reminds me,” he started. “How much does he know about Ash?” 

                “Just that we adopted a boy Gohan’s age,” she said. “He’ll be over soon enough; he can figure out the rest as we go along.” 

                All the while, Ash ate sparingly, picking at his food, his apprehensive gaze going back and forth between the two adults at the table. Meals in the Ketchum house—well, meals that he could remember, anyhow—were nothing like this. There was hardly any talking, mostly because all he could remember was the complete and utter disdain in his father’s voice. If he ever spoke at all, it was by giving curt little commands to have stuff passed to him, more than once telling Ash and his mother that he had to keep it short because that’s all they could understand at once, the dopes. Whenever he was talking for extended periods, it was when it turned inevitably into a verbal confrontation with mom. Her will to put up with this eroded, and father’s rants devolved into angry shouting at a woman who was trying to put on a brave front for her son. More than once Ash had tried to get away from the table when they started arguing, only to be shouted at as well, commanded to sit down until he was excused. He hardly ever was at that point, and little Ash got a front row seat to his parents arguing, or his father berating his mother, the boy unable to do anything but sit there in fear and watch. Trying to get up after that only made his father angrier. And when his dad got angry… 

                “You’re awfully quiet over there, son,” Goku said, gazing at him quizzically. His son gasped and dropped one of his chopsticks at the sudden grab of his attention, and he breathed out after a moment. “You alright?” 

                “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” Ash said after a moment, not feeling comfortable looking Goku in the eyes. His heart had skipped a beat, it felt like. “I’m fine…” He ate a piece of sausage, while he looked around, still feeling uneasy. None of this was what he was used to. A very strange feeling was engulfing him, gripping him, like a hot, wet blanket thrown on him. 

                “You sure? Because you’ve hardly eaten anything,” Chichi said, gesturing to the table with her free arm. “I made plenty, so help yourself!” 

                Ash glanced down at his plate again. He only had a bit of scrambled egg, and some sausage on it. His confusion and overall lack of comfort had robbed him of his appetite… despite not having a good, solid meal in days. “Do… do you always make this much?” he asked, trying to get something down. 

                “Sometimes,” Chichi said. She looked at her husband and biological son. “Something to look out for: your brother and dad especially are black frigging holes when it comes to food.” They both could tell Chichi was not being insulting when she said that, which would explain the two cheesy grins and peace signs Goku and Gohan put up in response. 

                Again, apprehension grabbed Ash. If this was his actual father and mother at his home in Pallet, there would be venomous words thrown around from both sides, either as passive-aggressive jabs or full on shouting matches. The contrast between that kind of experience and what he was seeing here firsthand… the contrast was indescribable. 

                The one thing that broke him from his train of thought was feeling Pikachu tug at his pant leg. He looked down and saw that the banana he was eating was gone up to the halfway point, where the peel stopped. Ash quickly got the rest of the peel off and tossed it into the trash can, while Pikachu went to town on what was left. 

                He looked at Chichi again. “But… doesn’t this get expensive? If you cook like this all—” 

                Chichi silenced him with two fingers across his mouth, which Ash looked down at. Her arm shot out like a bullet, but her touch was more delicate than demanding. “You boys don’t worry about that,” she said, glancing at Gohan as well, knowing this affected him just as much. “It’s not your task to worry about how much things cost when your parents are providing them for you.” 

                Her fingers came off his lips, and he and Gohan exchanged glances, with Gohan shrugging slightly. “Um… alright,” Ash answered. “If you insist…” Where was the shouting about how much money they didn’t have? Where was the arguing about how this costs too much? Where was any of that? These things had felt so… _alien_ to Ash. 

                “I do. I also insist you eat some more, because it’d be a shame to let this all go to waste.” 

                Ash took some more, but this morning his eyes were most definitely bigger than his stomach. 

 

* * *

 

                 “Good breakfast, Chichi!” Goku said with a big grin as he leaned back in his chair, finishing off the rest of his orange juice. 

                Once everyone was done, Chichi got up to start clearing off the table. Gohan helped, as did Ash, not wanting to be a burden or come off as lazy. Out of all they ate, only a few sausage links and pieces of bacon were left, and they were wrapped up in plastic and put back in the refrigerator. Ash was helping washing the dishes, while Chichi was wiping down the stovetop. 

                As Goku pulled the carafe out of the coffee maker, ready to pour himself a cup, a knock was heard at the front door. “One of you boys get that?” Chichi asked. 

                Goku was already making his way to the door. “I got it,” he said. He opened the door, and saw the torso and legs of a positively gigantic man standing at the door. “Oh, hey! Ox-King!” he greeted, stepping back to let the large man in. 

                Gohan heard the door open from the kitchen, and after hearing his dad’s greeting, hurriedly put the dishes he was drying away. “Grandpa!” he shouted as he ran toward the living room. 

                Ash paused as he saw Gohan run off, but saw Chichi give a nod of her head towards the door as well, and Ash set the dishes down and walked out into the living room. He slowed as he reached his brother, looking up at the man with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

                The man standing before Goku positively dwarfed him, standing at least 8 feet tall… and possibly 8 feet around, though his physique was more “muscle-gut” than Goku’s near-bodybuilder build. His head was covered in a form-fitting cap with bull’s horns curving upward, and the symbol for “Ox” in the middle, above his forehead. The man’s beard was thick and bushy, and his glasses were of a typical “old man” style. The short-sleeved, pink button-down shirt he had on strained to stay on his body, even with the top two buttons undone, showing off his chest hair. Thick, black bracers were on each wrist, emphasizing his massive arms. His olive pants were held up with suspenders, and his feet were adorned with heavy black boots, which looked like rain boots than anything. He took his time getting in, mostly because he had to kneel down to get through the front door. 

                Goku was greeting the man as his children approached. “Hey, Gohan!” he said in a warm, but boisterous tone, reaching down to tousle his grandson’s hair, getting a playful chuckle out of the half-Saiyan. “Oh? And what do we have here?” he asked, turning to the other boy in the room. 

                Ash’s head craned up to look this man in the eye… and he froze up. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open, the boy trying to form words as the larger man stared down at him. The sunlight pouring in from the open door shone around his massive form, shading his features, making him look menacing to the adopted boy. But that’s not what was making his seize up. 

                A vision flashed in his mind’s eye before him, and suddenly he was five years old, in a dark hallway in his house, the only light coming in from the downstairs lights. He heard the loud thumps of fists hitting flesh, and then the thumps of angry footfalls coming up the steps. And before he could react, a massive, imposing figure was before him, bearing down on him. A distorted “ _A_ **N** _D_ **W** _H_ **A** _T_ **D** _O_ **W** _E_ **H** _A_ **V** _E_ **H** _E_ **R** _E_ ” bellowed in his mind as a darkened hand reached out to grab him and— 

                Ash let out a loud shout, and as he hastily stepped back, his foot pushed a small throw rug out from under his feet, making him drop down right on his ass. He scrambled backward, a look of fear and panic on his face, sweat starting to form on his aghast features. Ox-King… reeled in his hand like it had been scalded, and looked at the child, confused. Gohan was quick to get to his side, and waved his hand in front of his face to get Ash’s attention. “Dude, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” It took a couple snaps of his fingers to get Ash grounded in reality again, his panicked expression still on his face as Gohan helped his adopted brother to his feet. 

                Ox-King didn’t have all the details as to why this kid came into his daughter and son-in-law’s care, but he had a feeling the circumstances leading up to it weren’t very pleasant. He bashfully rubbed the back of his head, an embarrassed look on his face. “Gee, I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean, I get that reaction a lot, but… I didn’t mean to scare you…” He was being joking, of course, but the kid’s look of genuine panic was unsettling. He looked at Goku, but seeing a contrite look on his son-in-law’s face didn’t help matters very much. He had a feeling he wasn’t getting the full picture here. 

                Chichi came into the living room, having heard the shout from her adoptive son, and paused as she saw him breathing hard and leaning against Gohan for support… and the embarrassed look on her father’s face. “Hey, dad,” she said as she approached, embracing him, Ox-King able to engulf her with one big arm. “We just got done breakfast, but… do you want some coffee? It’s fresh…” 

                Ox-King shrugged. “Eh, sure, why not,” he said. He moved to take a seat on the couch, while the boys gave him a wide berth—Ash even more so, but not because of the man’s size.

 

* * *

 

                 “So there you go,” Chichi said, sitting next to her father on the couch. “That’s the abridged version of the story.” 

                Ox-King nodded. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot there…” he said. Even the biggest cup they had looked positively diminutive in his hands. “But I’m really glad to meet you, Ash.” He smiled broadly, but Ash was still mindful of being near him, his body rigid in his seat, Pikachu sitting in his lap, his gaze sharp and vigilant. “Terrible shame what happened, though…” 

                “That’s part of the reason I called, dad,” Chichi said. “You know I don’t like asking for help like this, but… we kind of don’t have any other choice here…” 

                Ox-King waved off Chichi’s hesitance. “Bah, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll be glad to help get you guys what we need. Besides…” He grinned wide as he looked at Gohan and Ash. “What kind of grandpa would I be if I didn’t get to spoil my grandson every now and then? Excuse me—grand _sons_!” He laughed heartily, which made Ash less tense, but still rather hesitant to get to close to the man. 

                “I’m warning you dad, if my kids end up delinquents because of your ‘spoiling’, I’m bashing your brains in,” Chichi said, taking a sip of her coffee. 

                “That’s a lie and you know it,” Ox-King retorted. “You’d probably make Goku do it.” Goku laughed wildly at that, while Chichi nearly choked on her next sip, unable to stop chuckling herself. 

                Ash and Gohan exchanged glances. “She probably would,” Gohan said with a chuckle, both at the remark and Ash’s befuddled expression. 

                “So, anyhow, when did you want to go?” Ox-King asked Chichi and Goku. 

                “The sooner, the better,” Goku said after he calmed down. “We can make a day out of it, going to the city. We don’t have anything else planned today, really.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

                 They had all piled into Ox-King’s car, with him driving, Chichi riding shotgun, and the boys in the back with Goku. The drive out to West City took roughly an hour and a half. Ash was surprised just how far out in the country they lived. For the first hour or so, they hardly ran into any other drivers out on the road; it was twenty minutes into the trip before they came to roads that were paved properly. Not that it mattered, since it was about fifteen minutes into the drive that Ash nodded off, leaning against the passenger window, overcome by sleep. Pikachu curled up neatly in his lap. While he was asleep, Goku and Chichi quietly filled in the blanks for Ox-King in regards to what happened to Ash. The loss of his home, his mother, and everything he had at home made the larger man grumble, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

                Goku nudged Ash awake as the car found a spot in a parking garage attached to a positively massive shopping mall. It looked to be several stories high, and even as the mall was just opening up, crowds were wandering around, doing their own things. They entered one of the anchor stores first, a huge department store that spread out before them. Over the next hour, the group moved from department to department, buying up all sorts of clothes—western clothing, more traditional garbs, casual, dress… they didn’t stop at anything. Ash was in and out of dressing rooms, seeing what fit, what didn’t, and—to his admission—what he liked. Gohan hadn’t been left out either. He had gotten a few things himself, but he knew that getting his brother squared away and comfortable in his new home was paramount. 

                Ash had, at one point, asked Chichi why they waited until now to get all this stuff. “They’re your clothes; you’ll be wearing them. Why wouldn’t you get a say in this?” she had explained. “Besides, I think my boys are old enough to dress themselves.” The boys had exchanged glances… “I’ve made the mistake of picking out something for Gohan to wear once…” …and Gohan awkwardly fake-coughed as he turned away from Ash. He couldn’t make out what Gohan muttered… something about “boy’s suit” and “outer space.” There was a story there… 

                Goku, Ox-King, Gohan, and Ash all had their arms full with bags and boxes from their purchases thus far, made to carry them by Chichi. The group then wound up on an escalator to the next floor up. But as they crested the escalator and stepped off, Chichi stopped them, the boys bumping into the men, as they didn’t react in time. They saw a large kiosk a few yards ahead, its wares were obscured by the dozens of women shouting over and climbing over one another to get… whatever it was they were selling. Almost as though they had practiced it, the five of them right-faced, and walked away, not sparing it a second glance. 

                Not surprisingly, Ash needed a bed; surprisingly, they decided to update Gohan’s sleeping arrangements as well. They ended up getting a long twin bunk bed setup that was L-shaped, which would fit in the corner of the bedroom, which had all sorts of drawers in it, especially in the built-in staircase to the top bunk. They got new desks for both of them as well, as Gohan was starting to outgrow the old one, the surface area feeling smaller by the day, especially with as much studying he did. 

                “Chichi, if you think we’re carrying this all around the mall…” Ox-King started as they picked up the furniture, said furniture given to them in long, flat boxes to be assembled later. 

                “Don’t worry,” Goku said, being handed something by Chichi. “We came prepared for this.” He brandished something that was as long and wide as his thumb, which was off-white and had a green stripe around the center of it. He pushed the button on the top of it, and tossed it to the floor in front of him. There was a small burst, a puff of smoke, and the five of them stood before a white panel about four square meters in size. 

                “What’s that thing?” Ash said. 

                “Oh, it’s a storage capsule,” Goku said as everyone started putting the purchases on the panel—including a fourth chair for their kitchen table, which Goku had swung by to grab while Ash was trying on clothes. “Opened, anyway…” 

                “One of our family’s friends runs Capsule Corporation,” Chichi explained, “the people who make these things.” Ash nodded in understanding, pausing as he set his bags down on the panel. In the electronics section across the path, there was a stand with all sorts of individually encased capsules, the stripe on the closed capsule a shorthand indicator of their storage capacity. They were also… on the inexpensive side. She nudged Ash off of it once everything was set down. 

                “So… how do you know how much it can hold?” Ash asked. 

                “The packages advertise their storage capacity in terms of volume,” Gohan explained. “It does get a little hard to imagine, but it gets easier if you picture it as one side of a cube.” Gohan grinned. “It’s actually kind of neat, really; I’ve seen them opened plenty of times, but almost never closed up…” 

                Once everything had been set down, Goku smoothed his hand over the corner near him, looking for the button. He found it, clicked it, and the group waited a few seconds before it disappeared in another puff of smoke, leaving just the capsule behind. Goku reached down to pick it up, showing it off to the boys. 

                “Doesn’t this work better than carrying all those bags?” he asked with a smirk, noticing the indents in the boys’ elbows where the bags were hanging, which were caused by the bags’ stiff, but cheap, paper handles. The boys chuckled, nodding in agreement. Goku flicked his wrist, tossing the little capsule, which Chichi caught in her purse.

 

* * *

 

                 With everything they needed, for the time being, they decided to go get lunch. The food court was expansive, and took up about half of the top floor. It was fairly packed as well, and it was only by luck that they could find a table with one of the freestanding booths, as Ox-King was far too large to sit in one of the normal chairs comfortably. 

                They all got food from different restaurants when they sat down. Goku, particularly, had himself about half a dozen hoagies, which was considered “light” for him given his usual eating habits… and since he hadn’t done any training today, he didn’t need as much energy. “So, how—” Goku started, before swallowing the mouthful that he had. “How do you like all your new stuff? Both of you, I mean…” 

                “It’s really nice, thanks!” Gohan said with a grin. 

                “Yeah… thank you…” Ash said hesitantly. He was really not comfortable being at the center of everyone’s attention today. But if he said anything about it… wouldn’t they look at him as an ingrate? He felt uneasy… conflicted. “You didn’t have to get all of that stuff, though…” 

                “Ash, be reasonable,” Chichi said. “You can’t just wear the same outfit day in and day out, you know…” Ash cleared his throat uncomfortably.

 

* * *

  

                As he was coming out of the bathroom and down the hallway that fed out into the main area of the food court, Gohan saw a man with blond—almost orange—hair held up in a red bandanna, in an equally orange shirt and beige khakis, hawking cell phone accessories of dubious quality. Gohan had paused as he walked out, his eyes catching some of the more unusual designs, including ones with rubber molding made to look like animal parts, or wings, or something of that nature. 

                “See something you like, kid?” the man asked. 

                Gohan was immediately put off by his tone. “No thank you,” he said quickly, trying to walk away a little faster. 

                “Whoa! Hold on…” the man said, waving a hand in front of him. Gohan would never be able to tell anyone _why_ he just stopped. “You seem like a kid who’s got a lot of fire in his eyes…” 

                “Yeah, but… I don’t actually have a cell phone,” he said a little tenser. 

                The man chuckled. “No matter. There’s something else you have that’s important!” And then he grabbed at his left hip with his right hand, and with a dramatic flourish, a huge cape materialized and was drawn over him, only to be flung away, leaving him in a tight, midriff-bearing white top, the sleeves going down to look like gloves, along with orange pants with red diagonal stripes on them. He had black boots with orange half-stripes that came all the way up to his knees. Orange jewelry accented his wrists and his neck. His left hand held a black leather riding crop. The kiosk behind him had disappeared. “One!” 

                Before Gohan could react, a large red slab that looked like a coffin emerged from the floor behind him, slapping against his back. The impact made Gohan’s entire body bounce a little, his arms hitting the slab by near his head. 

                “Two!” 

                Manacles emerged from the slab, hooking Gohan’s ankles and wrists. “Hey! What the hell?!” he shouted, immediately starting to struggle. Much to his shock, the half-Saiyan martial artist couldn’t force his limbs free, groaning in aggravation as he found himself trapped. 

                “Three!” 

                Gohan let out a pained scream as the area around him flashed a brilliant white, sending innocent bystanders running and screaming in fear, while something materialized in front of him. He slumped in his restraints when the flashing stopped, his vision blurry as he beheld a square mirror in a light purple frame, a pink bow atop it, as part of the frame. The man walked up to it, holding the mirror’s sides. “How unfortunate for you,” he said. “I’ve been in a foul mood all day and your little snubbing of my wares…” _which were just an illusion of mine, but whatever,_ “…is just going to make this worse on you. Now let’s see what this little Dream Mirror has in store…” 

                At that same moment, Ash was approaching, having been too lost in his own dismal thoughts to hear the initial attack. But when he heard Gohan’s wailing in pain, his attention was drawn straight to… some guy who was cramming his head into… a mirror? And what is that Gohan’s restrained to? “Gohan!” “Pi pika pi!” Ash and Pikachu shouted at once. 

                “Stop right there, Tiger’s Eye!” a female’s voice had called out. 

                The incident was situated just before the set of dual staircases that led to the next floor down, which is where the voice came from. Ash paused as he beheld five teenaged (he assumed) girls and one girl about his own age, jump over the guard rail near the steps and land gracefully on their feet, all of them assuming battle stances. Their attires were all in the same style, based on the “sailor fuku” that was popular around schools in this area, their main color schemes varying between blue, green, orange, red, and the girl his age wearing primarily pink. 

                The man looking into the mirror—Tiger’s Eye—pulled his head out and looked the six women over. “You again, Sailor Moon?” he asked sarcastically. “Well, you’re just in time. This little brat’s Dream Mirror is worthless; but wouldn’t you know it, it’s going to produce quite the nightmare!” 

                “Not if we can stop you!” the girl with the long, blond pigtails sticking out of two small buns on her head retorted. She raised a hand above her head, then clutched it into a tight fist and brought it down to chest level. “I am the sailor-suited Pretty Soldier, who fights for love and justice! I am—WHOA!” She barely had any time to react as they heard a loud thud, like a bomb going off, followed by Tiger’s Eye’s body being launched across the mall, bouncing off the sign above the main entrance of another one of the mall’s anchor stores, shattering it, and then bouncing off of the guard rail, before tumbling the three other stories down to splash down hard in the fountain on the ground floor. 

                The six females turned to look at where Tiger’s Eye was previously standing. There, in his place, _floating in mid-air_ , was a muscular man in a black polo shirt and blue track pants, and black running shoes, his right knee extended. He had an intense look on his face, his hands clutched into tight fists. “Well?!” he shouted, addressing the Sailor Senshi. “Are you just going to talk, or fight?!” He then turned to the boys behind him. Thanks to Goku’s knee strike and subsequent ragdolling of the one casting it, the magic that sustained the ritual was disrupted, and the slab Gohan was attached to had fizzled out and disappeared. Ash ran over to catch Gohan, a panicked look on his face. “Ash, you help out your brother. I’ll take care of this!” His ki ignited around him, forming a radiant white aura, as he flew off to where Tiger’s Eye’s body went.

 

* * *

 

                 Tiger’s Eye pulled himself out of the fountain with a look of abject pain on his face. He couldn’t get to his feet; he was forced to crawl in the shallow water, the sprays from the water jets pouring on him, making it an even more uncomfortable experience. His entire body hurt. Every breath came out as a ragged wheeze, and his eyes were rolled back far in his head, barely able to see—of course, as blurry as his vision was, he wasn’t able to see much as it is. He felt some relief when he felt something dry on his hand, and he was able to gradually pull himself out of the water, rolling over the ledge—which plenty of people used as a place to sit down—and out onto the floor, rolling onto his back. He was still wheezing when he saw a black blob descending from above. “Night…mare…” he gasped, thinking that the lemure that emerged from the boy’s Dream Mirror had already dispatched its targets and was returning to him. 

                “Well, you’re partly right,” Goku said as he delicately landed on his feet next to the downed Tiger’s Eye. “Because your life’s gonna become a waking nightmare for attacking my sons!” Goku brought his knee up to his chest, and slammed his foot down… only to hit empty floor space instead of Tiger’s Eye’s head. He looked around, confused. “Where’d he go?” he asked no one in particular. There was a big puddle at his feet where the waterlogged antagonist lay, but now there was no trace of him ever being there.

 

* * *

 

                 Goku didn’t know that only Gohan was attacked, and that Ash had only happened on it because he told Chichi he needed to use the bathroom; in truth, the constant attention to him was wearing thin, and making the boy more than a little bit anxious. That didn’t matter at this point, because he was back in “battle” mode, thinking and reacting quickly, doing what he could to help. 

                Ash caught Gohan just as he slumped over, and set him down so he was sitting up, albeit with his legs out in front of him. “Aw, man… what happened to you?” he asked. He looked around, and saw that mirror floating above his head. “Did this… do I…?” 

                “That’s called a Dream Mirror,” the blonde with the pigtails asked. “It’s connected to the dreams of whoever owns it.” 

                Ash nodded, really weirded out by what was going on. The blob forming between the two groups wasn’t helping. “Then what’s that thing connected to?” he asked. 

                “That’s a lemure, a nightmare manifested in this world,” said the girl with the red fuku, accented in purple, and wearing red high heels. She looked at it, and quickly turned to the others. “Hurry! Let’s take it out!” She whipped her right hand up to her face, a slip of paper appearing in between two fingers. “Akuryo Taisan!” she shouted, whipping the paper at the shadowy blob. But it solidified before the attack hit, and it caught the little slip of paper in its hand. Dark energy swirled around his hand, disintegrating the little paper talisman. The nightmare took the shape of some kind of alien, about four feet high, with rounded shoulders and a rounded head. Its face was humanoid, and it let out a sinister laugh as it neutralized the attack. A long tail emerged behind it, and in the blink of an eye, it had spun around in a circle, slashing at all six Senshi at once with its tail, knocking them over. 

                Ash watched part of the exchange, but was too concerned with the mirror in his hands. He heard Gohan mumble something unintelligible, and in a hurry, he laid him on his back. “Aw, no… Gohan…” he muttered, his eyes wide. “Come on, you gotta stay with me, I don’t think I could take losing anyone else!” Without any other ideas, his gaze went to the mirror and then to Gohan, rapidly back and forth a few times. He knew this mirror came out of Gohan, so… could it be put back in? With a panicked grunt, he slammed the mirror against Gohan’s chest. Much to his surprise, his body glowed where the mirror touched, and Ash felt the mirror slip out of his hands. He watched it get absorbed back into Gohan, who then sat up straight, gasping for breath. 

                “What was that?” Gohan asked, looking around and only seeing Ash. 

                Ash threw his arms around Gohan, hugging him. “Oh thank god,” he said, muffled. “I thought you were dead, bro…” 

                Gohan smiled. “Well, I’m fine now,” he said. “Thanks, Ash.” 

                “Pi ka!” Pikachu shouted, getting the attention of both boys. When they looked over, the manifested nightmare was towering over them, a look of rage on its face. Its eyes were glowing red, and it yelled as it pointed its finger at them, a mass of dark red energy building in front of it, fully intending to blast them into oblivion. Until a blast of ice struck it, knocking it aside. 

                The two boys looked over, and saw the Senshi in blue—with blue hair, no less—her arms spread wide after firing off the magic attack. 

                “It’s not safe here! You need to get out of here now!” she told the two. 

                “Hey, we can fight, too, you know,” Gohan said as he and his brother got to his feet. 

                “Wait, we?” Ash asked quietly. His confidence seemed to be yo-yoing back and forth between _I’ll take on the whole world!_ and _I wanna go crawl into a hole and die!_. 

                “Yeah, Mr. Pokémon Master,” Gohan whispered to him, smirking. 

                And his confidence was on the upswing again. 

                Gohan was the first to fire back, raising his hands over his head, his ki building up, radiating off his hands like bright yellow fire. “Masen—” But before he could act, a loud, childish scream cut across their senses, and Gohan was suddenly bowled over by something pink and magical, sending the both of them crashing into the storefront of a video game store, shattering the glass and knocking over several displays, burying them in debris and video game merch. 

                “Gohan!” Ash shouted. He turned to the lemure, who was snarling at him. “Pikachu! Hit that… _thing_ … with a Thunderbolt!” Pikachu did so with a loud shout, a stream of yellow electricity hitting it, stunning it for a moment. But as soon as the Pokémon’s attack died off, the enemy was engulfed by white electricity, making it scream louder. 

                “Heh… a kid after my own heart,” said the Senshi in green, giving Ash a thumbs-up. “Nice lightning attack, kid!” 

                The lemure, incensed let out a yell, and a massive wave of dark magic shot out from it, a dome expanding rapidly, blowing back the Senshi and knocking Ash and Pikachu off their feet. It then rose one hand above its head, a large orange sphere starting to form at the tip of its finger. It didn’t get too much bigger than a basketball, though. 

                Goku came down on it with a double axe-handle blow, bouncing it off the ground. He grabbed it by one hand as he landed on his feet. “There’s too many people around still!” he said. “Let’s take this outside.” He gestured to the food court with his head, addressing the other Senshi. “The main parking lot’s just outside. There should be an exit around this area on the ground floor.” 

                “Wait, that lemure’s not just gonna go along with that,” the other blonde—this one primarily in orange—added. 

                Goku smirked. “Who said I’m giving it a choice?” The lemure thrashed, and Goku headbutted it, stunning it. He then pressed against his own forehead with his right index and middle fingers. “Sorry, friend, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” And he disappeared in a blur. 

                The Senshi were stunned. “Where… where did he go?” the Senshi in red asked. She turned to the blue-haired Senshi. “Mercury?” 

                The blue one, Sailor Mercury, had a translucent blue visor across her eyes, and was scanning the area. A small handheld computer was in her left hand, and she occasionally tapped a few buttons on it with her right. “They’re both gone,” she said. “There’s no trace of them anywhere!” 

                “I… he…” The girl with the pigtails looked at Ash and Pikachu. “How did he do that?” 

                Ash, equally baffled, just shrugged.

 

* * *

 

 

                The front of the Gamers’ Sanctuary store was completely trashed. After the two children were sent crashing through the main façade, the customers frantically backed up to the back corner of the store, trapped inside, unable to get away without going into the warzone that cropped up outside. Some of its employees, on the other hand, just bolted for the storage room in the back of the store. 

                The pink-haired girl and the boy she was thrown against had landed in front of the main display case, shattering one of the glass panels and sending old DS games scattered among the debris. She let out a groan as she became aware of her surroundings, and finally got a good look at who she landed against initially. He had long, shaggy, black hair, had on dark red slack held up with suspenders, a white t-shirt over what looked like a muscular—for his age—chest… 

                And he was just so _cute~_

                Gohan, meanwhile, let out a groan as his eyes gradually opened, and all he could see in front of him was pink. His vision cleared, and given the presence of her pink sailor scarf on her dress, pink skirt, and bright red bow, he deduced one of the Sailor Senshi had crash landed atop of him. But what’s with the long, curious stare? She was looking at him like she never saw a boy his age before… 

                And why was she… blushing? Even more peculiar, he could feel his own face heat up as well… 

                “Sailor Mini-Moon!” a voice shouted from outside. The girl—Sailor Mini-Moon?—let out a panicked shout, and suddenly snapped to her feet, directly next to Gohan, her hands behind her back as she tried to keep a neutral expression. Her radiant blush was undercutting that a bit. “A-are you alright?” she asked, clearly concerned about her ward’s sudden panic. 

                “YES,” Mini-Moon said quickly, still keeping that look on her face. “I-I mean, yeah, I’m fine, Sailor Moon…” Her pink eyes couldn’t keep eye contact with the blonde. 

                Gohan, meanwhile, pushed himself to his feet. He rubbed the side of his head, and to his surprise, plucked out a DS game from his hair. He looked at the label, seeing it about some CGI movie that came out a few years ago and that he had no interest in seeing, and tossed it aside. “Hey, did you see where my dad went?” 

                Sailor Moon gawked. “Wait, that guy’s your dad?” 

                “Where did he learn to teleport like that?” the other blonde girl asked, wiping some debris off her orange skirt. 

                “Space aliens taught him,” Gohan said flatly. The assembled Senshi just kind of looked at him. Gohan sighed. _That’s about the reaction I expected…_

                A loud crash dispelled the awkwardness. 

                Everyone looked as one of the glass walls to the food court shattered, and Goku’s body flopped onto the floor with a groan. Ash, Gohan, and the Senshi ran over to him, just in time to see Goku stand up, survey the numerous tears in his shirt, and just rip the garment off and toss it aside. “Damn it, we were just going over this!” he shouted before powering up and taking off out the window again. 

                “That thing’s our problem,” the red Senshi told the others. “Let’s go help him out!” She, Mercury, Mini-Moon, and the green Senshi all leapt out the broken window to the parking lot below. 

                “Oh my god, Venus…” Sailor Moon said, hearts over her eyes. “Did you see all those muscles?” 

                “I know!” Sailor Venus “He’s so… dreamy!” They both squealed in abject delight, until they both heard their communicators go off. 

                “Stop gawking and get down here and help us, dumbasses!” the voice on the other end shouted, shaking them out of their reverie. 

                “What Mini-Moon meant to say was: we need everyone down here to help take this thing down…” another voice called out. 

                “Okay, okay! We’re coming!” Sailor Moon shouted, jumping out of the broken window. 

                “Sounds like Jupiter’s patience has just about run out,” Venus added, following suit. 

                Ash and Gohan walked to the edge, peering out the broken window. Goku was engaged in a high-speed clash of punches and kicks, while fire, electricity, ice, lightning, and some kind of laser, would rain down on the lemure when the two were separated—either by Goku clearing out the lemure, or vice versa. “Should we go help him?” Ash asked, Pikachu sitting on his shoulder now. 

                “BOYS!” 

                They both flinched as they heard Chichi calling for them, while Ox-King had a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her calm. “Get over here!” 

                “Guess not,” Gohan asked, dejected. His mood lifted when Chichi’s expression turned from angry to worried, seeing the two of them, and Pikachu, approach, banged up from the earlier attack.

 

* * *

 

                 Goku had kept up with this thing the best he could, but found it difficult to fight it off. Not because his attacks were missing, but for some reason, they kept passing through its body, like it wasn’t even there. The incorporeal foe threw off Goku’s timing as he “landed” his blows, because he didn’t feel the impact of his fists or his feet on his opponent’s body, making him have to force his limbs from following through with the effort he was putting in, as a punch or a kick thrown too hard would make him stumble around like a drunk. Was this thing able to make its body intangible? And if so, why were the attacks from the Senshi doing more damage? 

                And as Goku dodged a hail of lasers shot from its finger, Goku had another question going through his mind… _Why does this thing look like Freeza?_

                There was a loud sound like a gunshot, and the lemure reeled back like it had been shot, only to freeze in place. A red, long-stemmed rose was embedded in its forehead. Goku looked around, and saw the Senshi looking up at one of the very tall lamp posts dotting the parking lot. He saw Sailor Moon pointing, and saw a man standing atop one of the lamp posts, wearing a white tie and tails ensemble, accented with a top hat and white domino mask. His cape fluttered in the wind. 

                “It is a noble thing, facing one’s fears,” the man started. “But just because you come to terms with demons of your past doesn’t mean they won’t—” 

                “Oh, hey! You’re Tuxedo Mask!” Goku shouted, grinning. 

                Tuxedo Mask nearly faltered and fell off his perch. “Wait, what?” he asked. “Hold on… how—” 

                “One of your friends told me about you.” He pointed to the stunned lemure. “So who’s putting this thing down?” 

                Stammering for another moment, Tuxedo Mask turned to the Senshi. “Sailor Moon!” 

                “Right!” she shouted. A pink rod, about as long as her arm, appeared in her hand. It was capped off with a jewel shaped like a heart, and accented with an elliptical diamond, both lined with gold. Similar gold accents adorned the weapon. She spun around a few times before landing on her knees, sidelong to the lemure, the weapon above her head. “Moon Spiral Heart Attack!” she bellowed. Goku jumped straight up as the attack came in, and the stream of magic washed over the lemure, disintegrating it. Its dust swirled around in the wind. 

                Goku watched as the girls celebrated their victory. Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the man in the tuxedo leap from one lamp post to one closer to him. “Okay, I have… more than a few questions for you,” he started. He couldn’t see his eyes with the mask on, but Goku knew this man was watching him very intently. “First and foremost: how did you know about me?” 

                “Sailor Pluto told me about you,” Goku said, making Tuxedo Mask falter again. “She said to look for you when I got back to Earth.” 

                “Back to—back to Earth?” By now, the other Senshi had approached Tuxedo Mask’s perch, looking up at them. “How…” 

                “She contacted me in a dream when I was on an alien planet learning how to teleport from the locals.” Tuxedo Mask gawked at him. _Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected…_

                “I… you… but…” A few more moments of muttering, and Tuxedo Mask dropped off the lamp post to land near the Senshi. Goku settled down a moment later, calmly landing on his feet. “This guy knows about us…” 

                Goku put his hands out in a placating matter as the Senshi looked at him incredulously. “But not in a bad way, I can assure you,” he said, his tone much more serious. “You’re Sailor Moon, right?” The blonde with the pigtails nodded. “I was told by Sailor Pluto to seek you out. Lucky we happen to be in the same area at the same time.” 

                “I’m sorry… who are you?” Sailor Moon asked, her confusion and curiosity overruling her urge to gawk at the man’s muscular physique. 

                “My name is Goku. I was told that a horrible catastrophe was about to befall our worlds—mine, yours, and that of my adoptive son’s. We have a lot to talk about…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the joys of writing conflicting battle styles and strengths.
> 
> Seriously, you have no idea how much aggravation it was deciding which villain from Sailor Moon to bring in for this first section. My memory on the anime/manga/Crystal isn't what it used to be; I only knew of Queen Beryl and the Doom Tree (filler) enemies off the top of my head; I had to look through three different Sailor Moon wikis to figure out what to use. And don't get me started on the weapons and attacks for the Senshi, either. Trust me, this will all gel together much better as the story progresses.
> 
> My longest chapter yet. Did this three NaNoWriMo days in a row, and each writing session drove my average words per day count to over 2000. Progress is going nicely, but I'm moving back over to my other fic for my next session. I owe it to it, and myself; I just got these ideas in my head for this chapter and absolutely HAD to sit down with it. But trust me, even after November ends, I'll be writing just as much.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


	5. My Loving Heart, Lost in the Dark

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama.

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

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* * *

 

                The Hikawa Shrine was a picturesque Shinto shrine set upon Azabu Hill, in the Juuban district. Travelers from all over the country and the world visited daily, to offer up their prayers for good fortune and the like, to buy souvenirs, or just straight-up sightsee. The grounds were well attended to, the pathways as spotless as can be—mostly due to the diligent work of the shrine’s attendants. The diminutive but devout priest who ran the temple, but was known as a notorious pervert and lecher, has, in the past, caused more than his share of pilgrims to flee the shrine in either fear or disgust.

                Other priests and mikos working there, in contrast, made sure to make every guest feel welcome, not just with leading prayers but providing spiritual advice when needed, regardless of their religious affiliations—even if they had none to speak of. Rei Hino was one of the latter, and had entertained the prospect of running the shrine should her grandfather—the aforementioned lecher—retired or passed away.

                Another had more humble origins.

                Yuuchiro came from an “old money” family, growing up in the lap of luxury and having whatever he wanted at his fingertips regardless of how obscenely high the price. But while he parents enjoyed it, he grew up feeling empty inside, unfulfilled. So he decided to leave. Sure, his parents thought of his efforts as foolish, but it didn’t stop Yuuchiro from seeking out something more substantial in life, to make himself feel whole… and, in general, just learn to become a better person. Which led him to training as a priest at Hikawa.

                He lived on the shrine grounds, just like Rei; unlike Rei, he had no intention of running the place himself. Regardless of his level of training, which was incomplete for him at this point, he knew he had no shot of running the place so long as Rei was around. Not that he minded having Rei around. He rather enjoyed her company, even if she tended to oscillate back and forth between fiery and bossy on one extreme, and cold and stoic and uninterested on the other. There seemed to be very little middle ground with her.

                But in honesty, just being in her presence was enough to make him smile. He thought about her, briefly, as he grabbed a broom out of a storage closet, his mind wandering as he headed out to the main pathway connecting the stairs to the honden. She had said she was going out to spend the day with her female friends—the five of them always seemed to loiter around the grounds, both before and after that little pink haired girl showed up—and would be back later in the afternoon.

                Foot traffic was on the lighter side today, so Yuuchiro was free to help with the general maintenance duties around the shrine grounds. He started sweeping up part of the pathway, making sure the pathway was nice and neat—whether it was because the gods took affront to unclean roads or they just wanted the place to look nice, he didn’t know. He looked up as he heard the wingbeats of birds, and saw two crows landing on a couple of low hanging branches. He knew them as Rei’s “pets,” Phobos and Deimos. There were plenty of trees on the grounds, so it was inevitable that birds would show up, filling the air with the sounds of birdsongs, but these were the only two crows that ever showed up. Rei could tell them apart… somehow.

                The two crows watched Yuuchiro sweep, as there was little else going on that day. One of the crows suddenly let out a loud squawk, getting the trainee’s attention. From behind Yuuchiro came the sound of numerous people shouting out in surprise, followed by bodies hitting the ground, staggering as they tried to regain their feet.

                Yuuchiro stared at them, dumbfounded. There wasn’t _anyone_ else up by the honden two seconds ago. And these people promptly dropped right out of nowhere. He did recognize Rei, and her friends, and that Mamoru guy that was Usagi’s boyfriend, but the muscle-head and the two boys with them were new.

                Regardless, Yuuchiro decided he had somewhere else to be, and turned and walked away and out of sight.

 

* * *

 

 

                Goku appeared a few yards from the steps to the honden, having transported the Senshi and his sons via Instant Transmission. The girls, having reverted to their civilian forms once they were certain there were no bystanders around watching, all let out shouts of panic and surprise as they landed, the sudden traversing through time and space at the fraction of a second disorienting for them. Quite a few of them were unsteady on their feet as a result. Thankfully, though, there wasn’t any time zone difference this time around.

                Usagi had fallen on her but, and she rubbed it in an overly dramatic fashion. “Ow… that smarts…” she whined.

                Goku looked around at his surroundings. “Interesting,” he said, taking in the décor. “So… do one of you work here?” he asked the girls.

                “Yeah, I do,” the one with the long black hair—Rei, or Sailor Mars—said, dusting herself as she got up. “My grandfather owns the place. So, being it’s your first visit…” She did a little flourish with her hands. “Welcome to Hikawa Shrine.”

                “Looks really pleasant,” he said, smiling. “I mean… I’m not into this sort of thing, but it’s still pretty neat.” Rei walked passed him, and everyone else kind of meandered over as well, sitting down and getting comfortable on the steps of the main honden.

                “Anyway… as I said earlier,” the only male of the Senshi’s group, Mamoru, started, “I do have… quite a bit of questions for you, Goku…”

                “Yeah, such as how on Earth did you find aliens to teach you how to teleport?” Usagi asked.

                The other blonde—Minako, or Sailor Venus—deadpanned at Usagi. “Usagi… seriously?” she started. “If they’re on Earth, then they’re not aliens.”

                “You know what I meant.”

                “I get where you’re coming from, at least,” Goku added. “And, well… neither of you are entirely wrong…” Seeing all eyes on him, Goku cleared his throat, his tone becoming more serious. “I was well into adulthood when I discovered the truth about my origins. I’m not actually a human.”

                This got a few awkward looks from the others, save for Gohan. Even a curious “Pika?” from Ash’s Pikachu accentuated the confusion.

                “The short version is: I’m what’s called a Saiyan,” he explained. “They are, or were, a race of warriors from a distant planet named Vegeta. They’re all about conquering other planets and they take great pride in their physical and martial strength. From what I was told, they send adults to handle more resistant planets, and babies to take care of weaker, backwater worlds.”

                The blue-haired girl—Ami, Sailor Mercury—looked at Goku. “Now, when you say ‘handle’, what exactly do you mean?”

                “I mean they exterminate the indigenous lifeforms and sell off the planet to the highest bidder.” He saw the surprised looks on everyone’s faces, completely expecting that reaction. “They were doing so under the control of an insanely strong monster by the name Freeza…”

                Goku gave the Senshi the abridged version of his history with Freeza, and with other alien invaders—his brother, Raditz; the invasion of the Saiyans; their trek across planet Namek looking for the Dragonballs; the deaths of Vegeta, and his friend Krillin, and becoming the legendary Super Saiyan.

                “…after planet Namek exploded, the ship I was on drifted through space for a while, before crashing down on the planet Yardat,” he explained. “They helped me recuperate, as well as taught me their secret technique, which they called Instant Transmission. That’s what this—” He put two fingers against his forehead, “—was.”

                There was an awkward silence as everyone absorbed this information. “Hold on…” the tall brunette, Makoto—that is, Sailor Jupiter—interjected. “Go back to when you said the Saiyans _were_ a race of warriors. Are they… not, all of a sudden?”

                “That alien that I told you about? Freeza?” Goku asked, to which Makoto nodded. “He destroyed their planet, exterminating the race. As far as I know, only a handful of Saiyans survived besides me—my brother Raditz, the prince Vegeta, and his henchman Nappa. And of those, only Vegeta is still among the living.”

                “I would say how absurd this all sounds, but we might not have much room to talk,” came a cultured, well refined voice, this time belonging to a small white cat with a crescent moon on his forehead. “But then again, that depends on whether you find aliens or reincarnation to be more implausible.”

                Gohan glanced up at his dad. “Well, we’ve already dealt with the former, but…” He trailed off as he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m guessing your group has dealt with reincarnation before?”

                “Oh yeah,” Usagi started. “The Silver Millennium, thousands of years ago. The Moon was the center of power for the entire solar system. Each planet had a kingdom, and all of us were princesses of our planets.” Mamoru cleared his throat. “Oh! And he was prince of the Earth.”

                Gohan exchanged glances with Ash. “The whole planet…” he said, not completely convinced. “Each planet being one whole kingdom…”

                “Still think it sounds absurd?” Rei asked.

                “Just a little,” Goku added. “But I think it’d be neat living in one of those kingdoms during your past lives.”

                Gohan blinked as he just thought of something. “But wait, Jupiter is a gas giant with a massive storm several times the size of Earth, so how—”

                “The kingdom was centered on Io,” Makoto said, cutting him off.

                “Right, one of the moons. That was my next guess.” He looked over at the cat, and saw another cat with the same crescent moon sticking out of black fur, hopping up onto one of the komainu statues.

                “There’s still a lot we don’t know about our past lives,” the black cat said, also sounding incredibly well-spoken and enlightened. “Usagi has told me that she only sees bits and pieces of it, and almost completely at random.”

                “And even then, occasionally they show up in a dream,” Usagi added.

                As they spoke, Artemis saw something yellow approaching out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to see Pikachu looking at him quizzically, his nose twitching. “Can I help you?” he said sarcastically.

                “Oh, hush, Artemis,” Minako said. “He’s just trying to make friends, right?”

                “Pi ka…” Pikachu moaned uneasily.

                Artemis scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Come on… whatever you are,” he told Pikachu.  “You act like you’ve never seen a talking cat before…”

                “Yeah, you’re not the first talking cat we’ve met,” Goku added.

                “Nope, “Uh-uh,” Gohan and Ash added at the same time.

                The cats looked at the newcomers, surprised. “I… I was being sarcastic…” He looked at the black cat with the same crescent moon marking on its head. “Luna… little help?”

                Goku shrugged. “They’re not magical, if that helps,” he said bashfully.

                “It… really doesn’t…” the black cat, Luna, answered.

                Gohan snapped his fingers. “Speaking of which… when that guy attacked me, what… exactly was he doing?” He looked uncomfortable, especially considering he felt his life slipping away, his vision blurring and senses dulling before Ash helped him.

                “They’re part of a group called the Dead Moon,” Luna explained, “and they’re looking for something…”

                “Pegasus…” came the voice of the youngest girl there, Chibi-Usa. “He’s hiding from them. He said that he has a really powerful Golden Crystal. That’s why they’re looking for him.”

                “Those mirrors that emerge from people when they’ve been attacked, they’re connected to the person’s dreams,” Rei said. “They haven’t found what they’re looking for, but after they look through them—”

                “Literally,” Gohan grumbled, looking down at his chest, still able to see the mirror floating in front of him.

                “—a monster called a lemure appears, usually taking the form of something that person has dreamed about. Though the dream gets corrupted and twisted so much that they could be referred to as nightmares.”

                Goku’s eyes widened, while Gohan tried to look like he wasn’t paying attention. “Wait… but if that thing looked like Freeza…” he started, his gaze going over to where his sons were sitting. “Gohan?”

                Gohan sighed. “After battling on Namek…” he started. “I can’t help it! Seeing Freeza nearly kill Mr. Piccolo and Krillin exploding… it’s haunting!” Goku merely nodded once, knowing what Gohan meant. More than once he was haunted by the vision of Krillin shouting out in vain before exploding violently. “Or worse, thinking about what would happen if he killed you… or me…” Goku winced. He’s had _that_ nightmare before, too. Hearing Freeza call Gohan as his next shot was what sent him over the edge and unlocked the Super Saiyan transformation. If he died, and that was all in vain…

                “But we don’t have to worry anymore,” he said calmly. “Freeza’s dead, and we got everyone resurrected with the Dragonballs that needed it.”

                Ash felt a chill shoot down his spine. His gaze slowly turned to Goku, who noticed it and returned a curious look of his own. The whole time, Ash had been sitting quietly, taking all of this in, but still not feeling like talking to anyone; he was still uncomfortable around everyone, especially with all the stuff his new parents bought for him. He followed the conversation the best he could, though he was distracted by the googly-eyed stare Chibi-Usa was giving Gohan every now and then. But then came the mention of resurrection. “Wait… the Dragonballs…” he started, looking at Goku aghast. “They can bring people back from the dead?”

                Goku looked at him wearily. “Yeah, why do you ask?” _I know exactly why he’s asking…_

                Ash’s lack of response left an awkward feeling around everyone. Until Ash lashed out. “You could’ve saved her!” he shouted. “You could’ve used them to save my mom!”

                _Well. He put that together quickly._ “Ash, wait—”

                “My mom didn’t have to stay dead!” He stood up, his fists balled and his eyes glistening over. “She doesn’t have to stay dead! You can help her!”

                “Ash, I can’t,” Goku tried to explain, still being patient with the distraught boy.

                “Why not?!”

                “Because even Shenron has limits on his power.” He saw the confused looks his new friends were giving him. “It’s like this: there are seven Dragonballs, and when you gather them, a huge dragon by the name of Shenron appears. You tell him your wish, and he grants it… provided it’s within his power or not against the rules.”

                Ash was stunned. “Power? Rules?”

                “You can’t resurrect someone who was resurrected by him before… which is one of the reasons why we went to Namek in the first place; theirs can perform multiple resurrections on the same person. You also can’t resurrect someone who’s been dead for at least one year. And once you’ve made your wish, the balls scatter all over the world. They also lose their power, turning to stone. And you have to wait one year to use them again. Plus however long it takes you to find them.” He closed his eyes briefly. “And besides… we don’t even know if his power would work across other realities or not…”

                Ash wasn’t convinced. His arms hung limp at his sides, floored by this knowledge dropped on him. “But…”

                Goku knelt in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, son. The day I returned to Earth—literally, the very same day—was the same day we used the Dragonballs to wish everyone back to life and get me home. That was when I learned that your mom died.” Ash’s gaze drifted to the side, not comfortable with eye contact. Goku wiped an errant tear of Ash’s face gently. “Believe me… that was the first thing I thought about when I got news that your mom died. Trust me, I know the timing on this is terrible, too.”

                Ash swallowed, feeling a massive lump in his throat. “So… b-by the time you can use them again…”

                “More than a year will have gone by,” he finished.

                Ash didn’t say nothing. He moved to get away from Goku, who obligingly let go of him when he felt him pull away. He sat back down, hanging his head, as Pikachu walked up to him and nuzzled his leg. Hearing about the power to bring people back from the dead… it briefly filled Ash with hope that he could get his mother back. But this new bit of information quickly snuffed out that hope. Even after her funeral, and her remains rendered into ashes and turned into glorified plant food, it finally hit Ash that his mother was gone for good. He put his hands on the top of his head, elbows resting on his knees.

                “What’s wrong with him?” Mamoru asked quietly.

                “Sailor Pluto told me about him, after peering into his world,” Goku said. “His is a world where kids his age capture and train all manner of beasts to fight for them and against one another. They’re called… uh…” He rubbed his chin, the term slipping his mind.

                “They’re Pokémon, dad,” Gohan finished.

                “Right, Pokémon,” he said with a chuckle. “And he’s really good at what he does, too!” By now, though, Ash had gotten up and walked off, moving away from the group and the other buildings. Being around everyone was starting to feel suffocating.

Goku saw Ash had already walked off by the time he looked at him again, his bright smile falling into a small frown. Deciding to let him be, he turned back to the Senshi. His tone turned serious again. “Anyway, Sailor Pluto said that he was some tragedy was going to befall him, and that nothing would stop it. And, well… he lost his mom and his house burned down, all in the same day. He’s really not taking it very well.”

                Usagi gasped softly. “That’s horrible…” she said, to which Goku nodded.

                “So when your friends used the Dragonballs to get you home…” Ami started, “they would’ve been used up by the time you learned of her death.”

                Goku gave a little shrug. “That’s probably what she meant by being unable to stop it.” He shook his head. “She seemed upset about it, too… more than she let on, anyway…”

                “Wait, what about his father?” Luna asked.

                “Wouldn’t he have any say in it?” Artemis followed up.

                Goku looked at the cats. “His father… well, his father left them when he was a small child. And my wife and I were warned to stay as far away from him as possible. Why, I don’t know. But who knows what kind of nastiness he’s done to them…” He smiled again. “Which is why we plan on adopting him. Well… once the paperwork clears, anyhow…”

                “That’s very big of you, Goku,” Mamoru said with a smile.

                All the while, Makoto’s gaze went from Goku to where Ash was running off to. Hearing about him not having any parents anymore really struck a chord with her. “I’ll be right back,” she said, walking off to where Ash had run to, but at a comparatively leisurely pace.

                The others watched her leave for a moment, until Usagi spoke up. “Wait… so you said…”

                “…your wife…” Minako added, the two blondes bearing the same comedic look of heartache.

                “Well, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, why else do you think I have a son?”

                The two blondes let out dejected moans as they slowly fell over, crashing to the ground comically. “Why are all the good ones taken?” they wined.

                Mamoru just kind of looked at them. “Usako? Seriously?” he asked, with a little what-the-hell shrug. Chibi-Usa ran her hand over her forehead in disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ash kept walking until he was out of earshot of the others. As much as he appreciated everything Goku and Chichi had done for him today—and he truly wondered if _any_ show of gratitude would be satisfactory—his proverbial batteries were feeling completely drained. The battle he had been in, even if he spent it mostly dodging and ordering only one attack from Pikachu while the others took the bulk of the fighting, didn’t help matters. Once the adrenaline wore off, and after Chichi was finished shouting them down and patching them up, he felt like a nervous wreck. He could feel his hand shaking as the two of them sat with Chichi and Ox-King, and he tried holding it in his lap to keep anyone from noticing. Pikachu was about to say something about it… when Goku arrived and told Chichi that “this concerns you two, too,” and he had been teleported away. No doubt they would get an earful from Chichi once they got back to Goku’s house.

                And he was still on Kanto time, technically. What was mid-afternoon here was the dead of night back home. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide from the world. Except… he didn’t have a bed. Well… there was the one they got earlier, but it wasn’t assembled yet. The technicalities his addled mind were coming up with were making his head spin.

                He had sat down on a tree that had split off close to the ground, leaving two relatively skinny trees growing upward, their branches extending outwards. Pikachu ran up to him, looking up at his trainer from in between his legs, his ears twitching. Ash smiled at him, but the fatigue and unhappiness was apparent in his eyes.

                “Hey! Ash!”

                Ash looked up and saw one of the girls walking towards him… the tall brunette with the primarily tan school uniform. He straightened up slowly, looking her over uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to expect. “Y…yes?” he asked. He didn’t remember giving his name…

                “I was worried about you,” she said, slowing as she approached.

                “Did Goku send you over here?” he asked in a less than amused tone.

                “No. No one did.” She came up to the tree he was sitting on/in-between, leaning on one of the trunks. “I was hoping I could talk to you.”

                “About what?” Ash looked away, his fists balling up as he leaned his elbows on his thighs. Right now, it was taking everything Ash had to keep himself calm and not explode on anyone or anything. Like that would go over well with anyone.

                “You know… I can understand what you’re going through,” she started, getting a strange look from Ash. “When I was fourteen, I lost both of my parents, too. It was a plane crash that killed them, though. Suffice to say, I had to grow up pretty quickly from then on…” She sighed. “I mean, I already knew how to cook before then, but I got a crash course in pretty much everything else—balancing a checkbook, budgeting, cleaning, paying the rent, you name it…”

                “Wait… you were living on your own since then?” Ash asked, to which Makoto nodded. “Then how do you pay for it all?”

                “My parents were fairly well off, and I mostly live off my inheritance,” she said with a little shrug. “Ignoble as it is…” She chuckled. “Let me guess: you were wondering how someone would let a teenager rent an apartment all on her own, huh?”

                Ash’s gaze averted hers. “I don’t think I can talk, though,” he said. “Well… let me put it like this: I’m ten and I’ve already ventured out into the wilderness several times for extended periods of time. No one around here would think that’s ‘normal.’” He shook his head. “You living all on your own sounds tame by comparison.”

                Makoto nodded. “Normal is subjective. I’m fairly certain any ordinary person walking the streets would crack under the pressure in about two minutes if they had our powers.”

                There was a long moment of quiet between the two of them. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

                “Go ahead.”

                “How do you deal with it?” Ash looked at Makoto. He had Pikachu in his lap by now, and was idly rubbing the fur around his neck. “I mean… being all alone in the world. How do you contend?”

                Makoto let out a deep exhale out her nose. “To be honest with you…” she started slowly. “Sometimes... I don’t.” She cleared her throat. “The first few months after they died and I got everything settled, I was a wreck. I’d get loud fairly quickly, I’d lash out at people… hell, it’s part of why I got kicked out of my old high school. Too eager to get into fights with people. Not that anyone was capable of kicking my ass.” She let out a little chuckle, and glanced over at Ash. He didn’t look too thrilled at her remarks about starting fights with people. “Since I got better at cooking, I’d throw myself into that. Mostly because being so busy would stop me from lingering on any really bad thoughts. For a while, being reminded of my parents—of anything family-like, really—I’d just completely lose it…”

                Ash nodded. “Today, when we were all out shopping…” he started, “I saw, a couple of times, some little kid being really happy around their parents. And I’d have to force myself to stay together. I don’t want Goku or Chichi to think I’m just a waste of their time.” He was also very reluctant to tell her—rather, anyone—that he heard one father shouting at his kid, pulling him along, the kid crying loudly. The image made Ash freeze up and put him dangerously close to a full-on panic attack.

                Makoto shook her head. “From what I’ve seen, it’s clear that Goku really cares about you. And your brother was really worried, too. But as to how I deal with it… ultimately, I sought some help, but the school counselors weren’t all that enthusiastic about helping me. And actual professionals are just a _little_ bit out of my budget. But then…” She smiled a little. “That’s when I got transferred, and when I met Usagi and her friends.”

                “Let me guess… you all became friends once she figured out you were the same as her?”

                Makoto paused, then gave an acknowledging shrug. “That’s part of it. Even without that, Usagi has this habit of seeing the good in anyone, no matter how screwed up or unusual they are. I guess she sensed I felt all alone. And while she can be a little over-the-top and clingy, I’m… I’m glad to have met her. Of course, she was just as overwhelmed by this whole Sailor Senshi business as I was, so we had that in common, too.” She smirked at him. “And being able to sling elemental magic around and smite bad guys is great for keeping friendships, too!”

                Ash let out a little laugh—a legitimate, non-sarcastic laugh—for the first time since his mom died. “I know that feeling, too…” he said. “Knocking the bad guys down a peg wouldn’t be the same without my friends by my side.” His smile slowly faded, and his gaze went back to the ground. “But they’re on the other side of the world. Far away…”

                “Hey.” Makoto squatted down next to Ash, getting his and his Pikachu’s attention. She looked him in the eye, still seeing uncertainty and despair. “I know it’ll be difficult to deal with, and I don’t think anyone _really_ gets over the loss of a loved one, especially when it happened when they were so young. Just know that you have people that love you and care about you. No one’s asking you to just get over it right away, but it doesn’t stay nighttime forever. You know?” She smiled warmly. “Your new parents won’t take too kindly to you worrying yourself sick, after all.”

                Ash nodded slightly, but ended up looking to the ground again, not focusing on anything. It was tough talking about his loss, but after hearing someone else go through something similar, it felt… nice. It felt alright, getting it off his chest a bit. Though he didn’t know that Makoto knew a little bit about his home situation from Goku, and tactfully used “parents” throughout their conversation.

                Before he could respond, they heard a sound like a clock tower bell played in reverse. A light shined brightly, but briefly, where the others were, getting both of their attention. “We should head back,” she said, nudging Ash as she got up. “I think this concerns both of us.”

                “Um… alright,” he said, curious about what that noise and that light were. “Come on, Pikachu.”

                “Pi ka,” Pikachu said, running after Ash and Makoto.

 

* * *

 

 

                “…so that’s why he calls himself ‘ _Prince_ of All Saiyans’…” Goku finished. “I think. Honestly, I know very little of Saiyan culture; just that they’re a powerful warrior race.”

                “Huh…” Mamoru said, taking in Goku’s explanation. “Even being leagues above his father in strength, he still calls himself ‘prince’?”

                “There’s precedent for this kind of situation,” Ami explained. “It’s rare in real life, but happens in fantasy works from time to time. Kingdom gets overthrown, the ruling regents die, the story follows the prince or princess until the end when they get to take back their kingdom properly... the term ‘government-in-exile’ is what they use.”

                “That’s actually kind of what we’ve been going through,” Rei added. “We were searching for the Moon _Princess_ for some time and… lo and behold…”

                “I’m guessing you don’t call yourself ‘queen’ for similar reasons, right?” Gohan added.

                “She doesn’t become queen until at least a thousand years into the future,” Chibi-Usa answered. “And that’s after she and Mamoru rule over the entire planet.” _Which I still can’t believe turned out to be_ this _ditz_ , she added internally.

                Before Usagi could respond, there was a bright light and a strange sound, and the world around them distorted as a tall female walked through. The light faded, and Sailor Pluto stood before everyone, her hands clutching her Time Key. Soon, wordlessly, she reverted, standing before everyone in a woman’s business suit, in gray, with a black blouse underneath.

                “Puu!” Chibi-Usa shouted as Setsuna appeared. She ran over to her, throwing her arms around the taller woman, who smiled warmly and caressed the back of her head.

                Ash paused at the strange nickname Chibi-Usa had for the woman, hearing it as…something else. He glanced over at Gohan, who had his head turned away and the back of his hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

                “Good, you’ve all become acquainted with one another,” Setsuna Meiou said, looking over everyone, while sparing a glance to her right as Makoto and Ash rejoined them. “It is nice to finally meet you in person, Goku.”

                Goku nodded once. “Can you tell us what’s been happening between our worlds?” he asked.

                “So far, things have been on the stable side,” Setsuna explained. “Attacks from the Dead Moon have been… within parameters, let’s say.”

                “They attack someone at regular intervals looking for this Pegasus, right?” Gohan piped up.

                “That’s one way of putting it, yes,” Setsuna answered with a nod. “Still, the Senshi under Sailor Moon’s command are perfectly capable of stopping them, and I have full trust in their capabilities.” She could feel Usagi smiling at that statement. “Anyhow, this… interplay of our worlds is still in its earlier stages. And while there haven’t been any strange phenomenon as a result yet, I’m still watching from the Time Gate for anything unusual.” She looked to Goku. “After your skirmish with one of their agents, it is highly likely that the Dead Moon could target you or your family next.”

                “I’ll be ready,” Goku said with a nod.

                “I cannot stress how dangerous they could be to you. Sure, your physical strength is far beyond theirs, but magical strength is something else entirely. They are as above you magically as you are above them physically. Even the simplest spells could be perilous to you.”

                “I understand. Still, we live way out in the country. I doubt they’d waste all that time and effort to go after one person in a—I hate to say this—target-poor environment.” That of course won’t stop Goku from doing everything he could to protect his wife and his children.

                “Perhaps…”

                Usagi, meanwhile, was stuck on the notion of worlds overlapping. “I could just picture entire chunks of either world overlapping with one another,” Usagi pondered. “Or you’d be able to see where one world ends and another begins. Like…right here is an arid desert, take two steps to the right and all of a sudden you’re in the arctic.”

                “As different as our lifestyles and civilizations may be, these are still Earths we’re talking about. Goku’s and Ash’s worlds still follow the same laws of nature that govern this world. Such occurrences shouldn’t come to pass.”

                “But what if it does?” Minako asked.

                “I have a guess,” Ami answered. “The boundaries between our worlds could destabilize rapidly, causing those strange ‘overlap’ phenomena you were talking about…or it could bring about alternate versions of our respective worlds, bringing forth versions of us from alternate realities—which carries its own set of metaphysical baggage—which might result in our realities unraveling completely and causing everyone and everything in every reality to suddenly cease to exist…”

                Everyone looked at Ami for a long moment. Her fellow Senshi knew the blue-haired genius read a lot—with her frequently being numerous chapters ahead of the class’ current curriculum—but they weren’t sure if science fiction was among one of her favorite genres or not. Was that little spiel a result of reading too much into it? Was she getting really engrossed in some dystopic novel and having trouble discerning fantasy from reality? Surely Ami was better than that. Right?

                “…of course, this is all just conjecture…”

                Everyone else let out loud, distressed moans as they face-faulted in random directions.

 

* * *

 

 

                The circus was in town.

                At least, that was the explanation that the ordinary people were given.

                Centered in the Juuban district was a circus event hosted by a group calling themselves the Dark Moon Circus. Their avant-garde performances were drawing large crowds on a daily basis; every show sold out, every show bringing in thousands of people. The performers were all in peak physical condition, and exceptionally gorgeous. And even more than one male performer was mistaken for a female given his soft features and delicate and graceful mannerisms.

                What the general public didn’t know was that they were not of this world.

                Indeed, the asymmetrical circus tent colored in garish primary tones served as the headquarters for the Dead Moon clan, who chose to use the name “Dark Moon” for dealing with the general public. Apparently, associating death with something supposedly fun and lighthearted as a circus would do poorly for ticket sales. Their agents schemed the capture of Pegasus, and discussed tactics in dealing with the Sailor Senshi. At least, that’s what they were supposed to do. They could only rehash the same strategies so many times before they fell into the ennui that came with having no leads and their newest lemure destroyed by Sailor Moon and her cohorts. Most of the time, their agents were in the bar, the sounds of ice clattering in glasses and the occasional clacking of billiard balls heard throughout the dimly lit room.

                This time, however, the sound of a body hitting the floor with a loud, unceremonious thud shook everyone, the hard jolt of the impact seemingly resonating with everyone in there.

                Two patrons at the bar turned to the source of the sound, and gasped at what they saw. One of them was clad in a blue segmented bodysuit, accented with a pink fish skeleton pointing upward around the midsection. His hair was long and blue, and he was one of the performers who was frequently mistaken to be female. His pink stockings and high heels didn’t help in that regard. The other was a man with spiky red hair, and reddish brown gloves. His chest was wrapped in gray cloth, going over his left shoulder, while he wore matching leggings and what looked like a kilt around his waist.

                “What the—?” “Wait! Tiger’s Eye?” they said at once.

                Tiger’s Eye crawled a few feet as his associates came over to him, helping him up, one on each side. They led him over to their usual seats at the bar, a collection of photos scattered in front of them. “Things…didn’t go according…to plan,” Tiger’s Eye choked out.

                “I’ll say they didn’t,” the red-haired one, Hawk’s Eye, said. “Even in defeat you’re much more graceful than this.”

                “What happened to you?” Fish Eye, the blue one, asked. “You look like you got the crap kicked out of you!”

                Tiger’s Eye took a few deep breaths to calm himself before explaining. “Everything was going just fine,” he said. “Sure, going after some boy was…an audible called on my part. But…you know, Sailor Moon shows up…” He breathed hard again, still in pain. “But get this. She gets about halfway through her little speech. Next thing you know, some _guy_ knees me in the face and I just…” He made a whooshing sound as he swiftly whipped his right hand out in front of him, and made a bunch of crashing sounds as his hand flopped to the bar, disturbing some of the photos. “And I’m about this close— _this close_ —to getting my head stomped on when I had to retreat.”

                “And that happened after one attack?” Hawk’s Eye asked.

                “I have no idea who this guy was or what he was on to let him just fling me around like I weighed nothing,” Tiger’s Eye remarked, his head in both of his hands. “Just that I’ve never felt such physical pain in my entire life.”

                Fish Eye had since moved behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of some dark brown alcohol, and had poured a bit into a highball glass. He figured Tiger’s Eye needed it after what he went through. Tiger’s Eye saw the glass, and the half-filled bottle left on the bar next to it. His hand reached out and grabbed the bottle, and he tilted his head back, drinking the heady, pungent liquor straight from the bottle.

                “His power…it was like nothing I ever experienced! He obviously didn’t have any magical acumen, otherwise I’d have been able to sense his approach or him preparing whatever magic attacks he had. This was…” He shrugged helplessly, still unable to make heads or tails of what he experienced.

                “Warriors from another world…” came an older sounding voice.

                The Amazon Trio turned to the source of the voice, and saw a much older woman, dressed in a purple robe with black markings on it that made it look like a screaming demonic face. Her head was crowned with a plain white round headdress, while she carried a staff that curved at the bottom and was crowned with an eyeball with wings at the top.

                “Do you know something we don’t, Zirconia?” Fish Eye asked.

                “In general? Many things,” the old crone said with a laugh. “But about what happened to Tiger’s Eye…I have been informed that Nehelenia was inspired by the actions of the Black Moon Clan, and their attack on the far future. She has been busy looking for other worlds. Worlds in which these damned Sailor Senshi either have been defeated and destroyed, or simply do not exist. What you came across was a man from a world with virtually no magic, but instead beings of incredible martial prowess.”

                “Which would explain why I got bounced around like a billiard ball,” Tiger’s Eye groused. “So what is Nehelenia doing looking at these other Senshi-less worlds?”

                “She’s begun forcing those worlds to intermingle with one another…one overlaying atop another…”

                “Isn’t that a little…much?” Fish Eye asked.

                “I know it’s imperative we find the Golden Crystal, but…” Hawk’s Eye added, trailing off.

                “If she does not have it, if Pegasus is truly beyond our reach, Nehelenia is prepared to bring down this reality and every other reality; if we are denied its power, they will be denied existence itself…”

                Tiger’s Eye finished the rest of the liquor as Nehelenia trailed off in a sinister laugh. Once it was empty, he haphazardly tossed it behind the bar, leaning on his right elbow, his hand against his head. He paused, looking over the bar when he didn’t hear the bottle shatter. There was rubber padding on the floor behind the bar, to cushion the impact of falling glass bottles; in other words, specifically to keep glass from shattering and the bartender stepping in it. He got a strange look from Fish Eye, which he answered with a half shrug. Disgusted, he finished the alcohol in the nearly forgotten glass, and whipped the glass across the room at the opposite wall, where it shattered upon impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would appear as if I'm slowing down after NaNoWriMo came to an end. Which sucks, because I really want to focus on getting this going.
> 
> I found this chapter more difficult to write than I feasibly should have, mostly because I feel like I'm better at action scenes. Plus, I could picture in my head, as if it were an actual anime, big, vibrant stills showing up as they talk about things in their pasts, relevant to what they're explaining. Feelings like that are hard to convey in this format...
> 
> In any event, that was a big hurdle for me to get over. Next chapter/s should come about more smoothly, given what I want to include. So in the meantime, enjoy this newest chapter, and stay tuned for more.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


	6. Something's Always Wrong

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by _Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama._

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

 

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* * *

 

 

               It wasn’t long after Goku and his sons parted ways with the Senshi that the Son family returned home. They had all exchanged contact information with one another, and in the meantime, had agreed to use the Hikawa Shrine as their primary point of contact should any more attacks on the city took place, or any other supernatural phenomena were occurring, threatening the stability of their individual worlds. Goku, in particular, was surprised to learn that the girls save Chibi-Usa were high schoolers. Of course, he had to remind himself that Gohan was involved in some rather harrowing battles himself, and when he was much younger, to boot.

                He could only imagine what Ash had been through, as well, in terms of battles. The past few days for the boy…

                Goku and Ox-King busied themselves assembling the new furniture, after removing the old and putting it in storage. Even with the two of them working on it, it took some time to assemble, as there were parts of the directions Goku couldn’t quite follow. As strong of a fighter as Goku is, he’s not exactly the brightest bulb. Still, after carefully laying out everything by what pieces had which lettering on it made it a little easier. It was also prudent that they work on one piece at a time, lest they accidentally bring in pieces from one of the desks, for instance.

                As Goku worked a short screw into a rectangular panel, turning slowly and carefully as not to ruin the panel, Ox-King was working on assembling the drawers. He affixed the handle into the front panel of one drawer, grinning at his handiwork. Then he and Goku blanched at the sound of Chi-Chi’s yelling. They couldn’t make out what she was yelling, but they could hear the muffled yells through the walls, and they both knew it wasn’t pretty. The two men exchanged looks, with Goku letting out a despondent sigh.

                The woman in question was in the kitchen, hands on her waist and leaning forward a bit, her volume and tone set to “loud” and “berating.” Her children were in front of her, side by side, all but rooted in place as Chi-Chi let them have it. It didn’t start this badly, though. She had sternly directed them to leave dad and grandpa alone while they got everything together. In typical Chi-Chi fashion, it didn’t take long for her temper to get out of control and her voice to start rising.

                “…and you two just fly off without even thinking twice about what you were doing to throw yourself head-first into gods-know-what and didn’t even know what you were going up against?!” she bellowed. “You could’ve gotten yourselves thrown out of the mall! Or killed! Or who knows what the hell else could’ve happened!”

                Gohan’s gaze didn’t stay on his mother the whole time. He had been subjected to these kinds of dressings-down more times than he could remember—or care to, anyway—and was just waiting for her to stop yelling. Most of the time he’d wind up relegated to his room, or given extra studying to do. She’d calm down after a while, but that would first involve not being near her for several hours, lest the very sight of him set her off all over again. As his gaze wandered, he caught movement out of the corner of his right eye. He glanced in Ash’s direction, and his eyes widened.

                Ash had his head hung, the brim of his cap hiding most of his face. But his body language told the whole story. His hands were balled up tightly, his knuckles probably bright white under his gloves. And his hands were shaking. The same for his upper body, which made him look like _he_ was about to lose it at any second as well. He tilted his head slightly, so he could get some kind of read on Ash’s face. Despite being in shadow, Gohan could see Ash’s eyes were tightly shut, his mouth curled into a coarse frown, his bottom lip half in and half out of his mouth. Pikachu was looking up at him as well, from his spot in between Ash’s feet. His ears were drooping, as he had an unobstructed view of his Trainer’s distraught look. The little yellow mouse knew that as brash, arrogant, and headstrong as he could be, he was very sensitive as well. Snuggling up between his Trainer’s feet and craning his head back so he could look up at him was Pikachu’s way of comforting him when he needed, or to keep him from losing his perception of the world around him when he was really upset. Although, Pikachu expected Ash to pick him up by now. Not that Pikachu couldn’t jump up into Ash’s arms whenever he wanted.

                Chi-Chi didn’t seem to pay it any mind, though. “What could’ve possessed you to act like that?!” she bellowed. “What, was it those girls who showed up, too? Those girls with the strange hair and the short little skirts? Was that what that was?! Huh, big men?! Don’t think I saw them chasing after your father like a bunch of dogs going after raw meat! You trying to show off…to…?” Chi-Chi’s ranting stalled out when she noticed Gohan paying attention to something else. That’s when she saw Ash shaking, and her ranting stopped. She was stopped in her tracks at the sight of Ash’s reactions. But then again, she never once even thought about how her adopted son would react to her yelling.

                Her hand delicately went up to her mouth when she heard Ash whimpering. When she had realized how quiet she had become, she also heard Ash muttering to himself. “Ash—”

                “I’m sorry, alright?!” he suddenly snapped, his wide-eyed, distraught gaze shooting up to meet Chi-Chi’s, who gasped at her adoptive son’s reaction. “I couldn’t help it! I had to help out somehow! I couldn’t just stand there and let someone get hurt!” He sniffed loudly, his heart racing.

                Chi-Chi winced at Ash’s reaction, and, seeing how he reacted, went into damage control. “Ash, come on,” she started. “You need to calm down—”

                “What was I supposed to do, stand there and do nothing?” He swallowed hard. “Pokémon trainers don’t do that; we fight off bad guys with our Pokémon!”

                “But it could’ve made absolutely no difference, you know…”

                “I still had to try!” He ran his hands up the sides of his head, up to his hair, dislodging his cap. “I just… what do you want me to say?!”

                The kitchen was silent for a few moments, save for Ash’s whimpering as he tried with every fiber of his being to keep from breaking out into full-on sobbing. Gohan lifted a hand to rest on Ash’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. Ash’s fists clenched tightly, the knuckles turning white under the material of his gloves. Indeed, had he not been wearing them, his fingernails would’ve been dug into his palms by now. Pikachu’s ears drooped sadly as he observed his trainer’s condition, before the little mouse Pokémon grabbed Ash’s now fallen hat, holding it for him. Chi-Chi was still looking at them both, pondering what to say next.

                Chi-Chi sighed. “Alright… I’m sorry, Ash—”

                “That’s what I’ve been trying to say—”

                “Would you give me a minute here?!” Chi-Chi suddenly interrupted, making Ash and Gohan jolt suddenly from her shout. Once she was sure she had their attention, and that they were quiet, she continued, much more calmly. “I know you two were only trying to help. And I know that things like this are why you train so often… despite my objections…”

                Gohan winced a little, and exchanged a glance with Ash, who had calmed down, if only a little.

                “Still… not even thinking of rushing off to stop… whatever the hell that thing was, caring more about everyone else than yourselves.” She smiled a little. “You’re every bit like your dad.” She moved closer to the boys, taking one of their cheeks in hand as they looked up at her Gohan didn’t react, but Ash breathed in sharply through his nose, stiffening just a bit. The warm look in Chi-Chi’s eyes did little to calm him. “And while that’s all well and good, you’re both just kids. You shouldn’t have to be fighting these kinds of battles, regardless of the circumstances…”

                “I still want to protect people, especially those close to me…” Gohan added.

                “I know you do, Gohan…” Chi-Chi looked over at Ash, who was wiping his eyes. “And you, Ash… honey, you just got here. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you wound up getting seriously hurt after being here less than twenty-four hours. You understand what I’m saying?”

                Ash nodded, but was only able to keep eye contact with her for about half a second. He just felt too embarrassed like this.

                “I’m sorry I blew up on you like that. But I worry about you. Both of you. I know heroics and all that kind of run in this family, but… just promise me that you’ll be more careful in the future, alright?” she asked them.

                “We will,” they both muttered.

                Chi-Chi grinned and pulled them in close, hugging them. “You’re both good kids, you know that?” The two hugged her back, though Ash was more hesitant than Gohan.

                “Thanks, mom,” “Thanks, Chi-Chi,” Gohan and Ash said at once. Unseen by them, Chi-Chi’s smile faded a little. Granted, a part of her knew that Ash wasn’t going to start calling her “mom” right away, but she was still a little upset that he wasn’t using the term yet. She closed her eyes, tousling both boys’ hair. They’d help their newest addition to the family fit in. She just had to give it time.

                They stayed like this for a few moments until they heard the bedroom door open and heavy footfalls coming down the hallway. Goku came out to the living room, idly palming a screwdriver in one hand, pausing as he took in the scene before him. “I heard yelling out here, is everything alright?” he asked, getting everyone else’s attention.

                “Yes, everything’s fine, Goku,” Chi-Chi answered. “How’s it going in there?”

                Goku smiled brightly. “We got done assembling everything and got it all set up!” he said proudly, while beckoning the rest of his family. “Come on, come see!”

                Chi-Chi walked past the two boys, who followed a couple steps behind. Gohan grinned at Goku as he walked by, but Ash didn’t make eye contact, merely following along almost mechanically. He seized up again briefly when Goku reassuringly rubbed his shoulder, making him stagger briefly.

                Inside the boys’ bedroom, Ox-King was dropping one of the mattresses into place, the bed freshly made and the new bed clothes made up perfectly on them. The bunk bed itself was set up in one corner of the room, the top bunk positioned flush up against the wall, while the top bunk formed a right angle under the window up against the other wall. Given the way the beds were made, the heads of both beds were meant to line up with one another. A smaller, more horizontal bureau, also served as a support for the upper bunk. The new bunk bed setup had drawers built into it, primarily under the bottom bed, but a few smaller, square drawers making up another support for the top bunk. On the far side of the room, the desks were assembled and set up facing one another. The shopping bags full of the new clothes hadn’t been put away yet, until Chi-Chi, meanwhile, started sorting out whose clothes were whose. While Goku and Ox-King were assembling everything, they had altered the closet to better accommodate both boys’ wardrobes; the original rod had been moved higher up, while a second rod was put in about halfway between it and the floor. The boys could work out whose clothes went where on their own time.

                “I’ll have to see how many hangers we have,” she mused, “so we can get everything all hung up and put away.”

                Ox-King was piling up the cardboard boxes that everything came in together, to make it easier to dispose of. “Well, boys? What do you think?” Ox-King asked, wiping off his forehead.

                “Oh, neat!” Gohan said, grinning as he looked over the new furniture. He was looking over everything enthusiastically, while Ash was still taking everything in, trying not to make too much noise. He idly examined one of the drawers, tugging on the little brass knob adorning it, not surprised to see it empty for the time being. Pikachu, meanwhile, leapt from the floor to the top bunk, right in the middle of the adults, disturbing their conversing amongst themselves, with Chi-Chi barely getting her head out of the way as Pikachu’s lightning bolt tail flew by her face. He looked pretty happy with himself, taking in the shocked expressions of the others as he looked down at them from the top bunk, squeaking out playfully at them.

                As he got acclimated to his new surroundings, a thought came into Ash’s head. “What happened to the old stuff?” he asked.

                “We moved it into that storage capsule we used earlier,” Goku said, brandishing said capsule. “We’ll figure out what to do with the old stuff later. So, what do you guys think?”

                Gohan was beaming as he looked at his father. “It’s all really nice,” he said. “Thanks, dad!”

                “Y-yeah, uh… thanks, Goku,” Ash added, only able to look Goku in the eye for a moment before looking away. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful; far from it. Goku’s optimism and general cheerfulness were overwhelming to the already taxed kid, and even though they were all a delight—barring Chi-Chi’s earlier ranting, regardless of her intentions—he still had trouble believing this was real. As though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or he’d turn to look in their direction again and suddenly be blindsided by a rogue fist, dropped like a bad habit—

                “Ash! Hey!”

                Ash was jolted from his reverie as he heard his name blurted out. Gohan was looking at him as Ox-King ducked down to get out of the bedroom. “Come on, we gotta say goodbye to grandpa.”

                Goku and Chi-Chi had made their way outside along with Ox-King, escorting him to his car. “Thanks again, dad,” Chi-Chi said. “I know it was a lot to ask of you…”

                “Bah, don’t worry about it,” he said, hugging his daughter with one large arm. “Anything for my grandkids!” He laughed heartily, letting go of Chi-Chi just in time to see Gohan run out, Ash a few steps behind. Gohan threw himself at his grandfather, hugging him, while the older man reached out and rustled a still anxious Ash’s hair. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” he told him.

                “I-It’s fine,” Ash said, his voice wavering a little. “No big deal, really…”

                “Next time I come over, it’ll be less scary; how’s that sound?” Ash could only nod once in acknowledgment, a nervous grin on his face. “Well… see you all later!” And he got in his car, started it up, and drove off down the road. The Son family watched him drive off until his car was too small to make out before Chi-Chi ushered the other three back inside.

                On Chi-Chi’s encouraging, Gohan and Ash were going through the rest of their new clothing, separating it into different piles based on who it belonged to. Chi-Chi managed to find some hangers, but still wasn’t sure if they had enough. After a little while, Gohan looked to his new brother. “So, I guess we should decide who—oh…” he trailed off.

                Ash blinked. “Decide what?” he asked. He followed Gohan’s gaze to the new bunk beds.

                “I was about to say we should decide who gets which bunk. But…” He chuckled, pointing at the lower bunk. “Guess that was already decided for us, huh?” The lower bed had a dark blue bed spread, accented with kinmokusei flowers branching horizontally across it. Gohan had been drawn to the contrasting colors, especially since—he noticed some time later—they were similar colors to his dad’s gi.

                “Oh…” Ash muttered. They had already made the beds, and put Gohan’s new sheets on the lower one. Goku, or Ox-King—either one, really—probably put them on without thinking. “Is… is that alright with you?” He looked uncertain as he looked at Gohan. “I mean, did you want the top bunk? Because I don’t mind switching if you want it that bad—”

                Gohan let out a bemused chuckle as he put his hand up to Ash’s chest, trying to get him to calm down. “It’s fine, really,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

                Ash glanced away, uncertain. “We can switch later, if you want…”

                Gohan waved it off. “Eh. Maybe. We’ll see.” Ash just gave a little shrug, and walked up to the bunk. He scaled the ladder going up to the top bunk easily, and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet dangling over the side. Seeing his Trainer join him, Pikachu nudged his side with his head, and as Ash reached over to pet him, the little yellow mouse turned on his back, Ash’s hand going to his stomach, which he obligingly scratched with his fingertips, the little mouse Pokémon cooing contently. After a moment, Gohan joined him, in a sense, hovering next to Ash. “Wow. Yours look pretty neat, too,” Gohan added, his gaze going up and down the bunk. “Didn’t take you as the kind who liked art deco stuff.”

                “Is that what this is?” Ash asked, looking at it himself. His new bed clothes were all black, the pillowcase and comforter trimmed with several intertwining lines of gold piping, crisscrossing at right angles. In the center of both were complex geometric shapes in the same style. Ash shrugged at Gohan. “I just thought it looked cool, is all…”

                “That’s fine, too,” Gohan answered. He chuckled. He floated over to the foot of Ash’s bed, legs sticking out straight as he sat with his back against the wall. Pikachu walked over to him, smiling, and Gohan obliged the Pokémon by running his hand over his head, causing him to squeak in delight. “It might come off as a little showy… but I’m guessing you Pokémon Trainers worry about showmanship a lot, too, with some of the bigger tournaments…” he chuckled, recalling what little Ash told him of Pokémon tournaments on their way back home. “Right, old sport?”

                Ash glanced at Gohan, confused. “What… what’s that mean? Old what?”

                “Come on. You’ve heard of _The Great Gatsby_ , right?”

                Ash just kind of looked at him.

                “…guess not.”

                “What? I’ve never heard of it.” His gaze drifted to the side briefly. “Should I have?”

                “It’s a classic,” Gohan said, glancing at the bookshelves. Aside from more typical educational textbooks, Gohan had plenty of pieces of classic and more well renowned literature on his shelves… no doubt the subjects of more than one book report. “It’s a good enough book—I thought it was alright, anyway—and it takes place at a point in time when this kind of art was flourishing.” He hopped off the bed and went over to one of the bookshelves, a finger tracing over the spines of numerous books in varying condition. “It got made into movies and the like, but that’s true of all sorts of old literature—ah, here it is.” He pulled the paperback book out from between two larger books and lobbed at Ash, who caught it, and looked at the cover. The cover art was primarily black and gold, with the same kinds of designs that were on Ash’s bedclothes, albeit more elaborate, while surrounding the title of the book in eye-catching Broadway font. This version was clearly newer, with a blurb advertising it as a major motion picture... released a couple years ago. “You should read it sometime.”

                “You don’t mind me reading your stuff?” Ash asked, brandishing the book unknowingly.

                “Dude. You don’t have to ask about borrowing anything. I don’t mind.” He smiled reassuringly. “Well, unless I’m reading it first, but… I’ve gone over most of these books a bunch of times already.”

                Humming in acknowledgment, Ash looked at the front cover, then turned it over to look at the back. “Alright,” he said. “If it’s no big deal…” For the time being, though, he set the book aside, and brought his legs up onto the bed. He laid his head back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, still taking everything in. It was still a whole lot to take in. And when he inevitably thought back as to why all of this came about, why he was on the opposite side of the world far away from “home” … well, he doubted he could concentrate on much of anything for too long, much less a book he’s never even heard of before today.

                Within the span of a few days, Ash had lost his mother, lost his home, and was adopted by a family from a completely different culture, uprooted and moved to the opposite end of the planet. His new family—and it could really be considered a family, given how it had all the “typical” members of what was supposed to constitute a family. The closest thing he had to a brother figure of any kind was Brock, but he had his numerous other brothers and sisters to care for. Did Brock know just how much Ash looked up to him and admired him? How he thought of him as an older brother that he (presumably) wouldn’t have? Ash didn’t know.  And what bothered him even more, Ash never got to tell him how grateful he was for his company—and not just cooking for everyone, either; someone who looked out for him while he was journeying with him. Sure, Ash might have complained that Brock was treating him like a small child… but right now Ash would give anything to hear that again.

                Speaking of never getting to tell someone how they feel…

                Images of Misty drifted back into Ash’s thoughts.

                Their first meeting may have involved her slapping the taste out of his mouth, and she had insisted up and down that she was only following him to get back the bike he (read: Pikachu) accidentally destroyed. Until… she stopped complaining about it. And bringing it up again merely resulted in some flustered agreeing with whoever brought it up, followed by a “disgusted” look on her face. Everyone else thought Ash was as dense as a Rock/Steel dual-type. But that was the farthest thing from the truth. Ash had always had a feeling Misty wanted more from him than just her bike fixed. It wasn’t until after the Orange Islands, when she had blown off Rudy and started cheering for him unconditionally, that he realized it. The incident with Lugia and the Legendary Bird trio only seemed to galvanize it in his mind. She had stopped caring about the bike a long time ago. What was really more important… was him. And he knew it.

                The only problem was going about telling Misty how he felt about her. His young mind couldn’t properly put together how to break it to her, or the appropriate context to do so. So, Ash kept putting it off and putting it off. Always lingering in the back of his mind, the nagging thought practically demanding to be released, the kid having no idea how to properly parse what he was feeling. But then his mom died. Suddenly, trying to start up a romantic relationship with someone he had a crush on for the longest time was the las thing on his mind.

                And he never got to tell her how he felt. And worse, he felt like he never would.

                Granted, it’s not like either one of them are dead, but Ash Ketchum being just another Pokémon Trainer out in the world, journeying across the land to become a Pokémon Master… well, if it wasn’t completely cancelled, it at least will be put on hold for a long time.

                All of these thoughts swirling in his head did not mesh well with the chaos that had befallen his life the past week. His face bunched up in a sorrowful look, and he sniffed loudly, before bringing his hands to his face and softly crying.

 

* * *

* * *

 

                The next morning, the Son family started the day trying to be like a normal family… well, as normal as a superpowered husband and son, while acclimating their adopted child into their home, could be. Chi-Chi wasn’t the first one up, but the quiet in the house told her that she had the place to herself for the moment. She knew Goku and Gohan were out training somewhere in the wilderness before breakfast, and Ash was sleeping in. Hell, he hadn’t left his room since last night. As she started to get breakfast together, she wondered just how okay he was.

                As she was getting breakfast ready for when the rest of the family joined her, she opened the kitchen window… and soon after heard a car pulling up, seeing the bit of dust it kicked up as it came down the road. The car came to a stop a short distance from the house, and the driver soon got out, their bright, almost powder blue hair the first thing noticeable to the woman.

                Seeing the driver open up the trunk and pull out what looked like a suitcase finally piqued Chi-Chi’s interest, and she opened up the front door and walked outside, cinching the belt around her dark blue bath robe tightly. “Excuse me?” she called out. “Can I, um… help you?”

                The driver then turned to face Chi-Chi, giving the woman a good look at her face. …His? Chi-Chi paused, blinking once, not entirely sure if the person standing before her was male or female. Possibly the former? But acting more effeminate than she would’ve guessed? It was hard to say. Regardless, she was weary of the briefcase he was carrying, noticing the corporate branding on it. She let out a sigh. Barely sunrise and she was being harangued by door-to-door salesman.

                “Well, perhaps,” he said, “but more importantly, I’m here to help you!”

                Chi-Chi only partly paid attention, as she was still pondering just how some salesman peddling what will no doubt be chintzy, overpriced garbage found her house all the way out here in the wilderness. The salesman’s excitement got the woman’s attention again soon enough. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked. “What makes you say that?”

                The briefcase snapped open, and the man held the bottom of it while displaying its contents. All sorts of makeup and other accessories permeated the inside, the test models all held in place with elastic bands to the interior. “For you see, madam, I have been sent here to offer to you the newest additions to the line of—”

                Chi-Chi already had a hand to her forehead. “Yeah, no thanks,” she said, cutting him off.

                The salesman flinched, wide-eyed, not expecting to be interrupted so quickly. “Hold on, what?”

                “Look, I don’t have any need for what you’re selling,” she explained. “And certainly not this early in the morning. Not to mention we have more important things to spend our budget on. So, no thank you.” She was already turning to go back into the house.

                “Oh, but you simply must!” he insisted. “Especially someone like you, madam!”

                Chi-Chi paused, and slowly looked over her shoulder, glaring at the man, an eyebrow twitching in irritation. “Would you care to… elaborate?” she asked dangerously, sucking in a sharp breath.

                “Um, well…” the salesman stammered, surprised by his customer’s glaring at him. “Surely, you’re concerned about your looks, correct? Especially since they’ve already started to fade, perhaps?” His question got gradually higher at the end, trying to imply to his customer that the inevitable was already setting in for her.

                All this did was make Chi-Chi turn around, her hand clenched into a fist at her side, her fixed glare burning a hole through her. “And is this how you make all your sales? By insulting and disrespecting your customers?” Chi-Chi retorted.

                With a frustrated groan, the salesman slammed his briefcase shut, holding it pressed between his palms. “Well, I was not planning on leaving until I had made a sale, but if that’s the attitude you’re going to take, then we’ll just get right down to brass tacks!” He then slammed his briefcase down on the ground, where it snapped open with a burst of blinding light and smoke. Chi-Chi hopped back, in a fighting stance, waving away the smoke as the breeze carried it off. When it cleared, the three-piece suit the salesman was gone, replaced with a puffy, ribbed bodysuit the same baby blue color as his hair. A skeleton of a fish adorned his midsection. “I’m through playing around, honey,” Fisheye declared. “One!”

                Before Chi-Chi could react, a bright red coffin shaped slab slapped against her back, her arms bouncing from the impact so that her hands landed near her head. “What?!” she gasped, glancing back at it.

                “Two!”

                The loud clank of metal clamping shut assaulted Chi-Chi’s ears, and she suddenly felt her wrists and ankles shackled to the slab. “Hey! Let me go!” she shouted, every muscle tensing as she struggled to free herself.

                Fisheye opened his mouth to finish the incantation, as it was, when a third voice rang out, getting both his and Chi-Chi’s attention. “Mom?!”

                The two looked up to see Gohan floating in the air above them, dressed in ragged looking workout clothes, fresh from his early morning training, having been sent back early by his father. Gohan gawked at the sight, recalling what he went through yesterday all too well. “Gohan, get out of here!” Chi-Chi shouted.

                But Gohan had already reacted. Ki surged around him in a brilliant white aura as he launched himself towards Fisheye, a fist drawn back. “You leave my mom alone!”

                Fisheye rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he retorted, waving his hand and making Gohan disappear in a burst of light. It was a simple warp spell, but it would put him far away from the two of them, unable to save his dear, sweet mommy.

                “Gohan!” Chi-Chi shouted, her struggling stopped as she gawked at the empty space where Gohan formally was. Her head then slowly turned to Fisheye with a murderous expression. “You…”

                “Such an inveterate little boy…” Fisheye turned his attention back to Chi-Chi. “Now where were we… oh, yes—what?!”

                Fisheye’s spiel was cut off when dark red aura surged around Chi-Chi briefly, and with a defiant roar, the slab shattered and the bands holding her in place snapped clean off. Fisheye had no time to react as Chi-Chi suddenly closed the distance between them in an instant, the woman slamming a side kick right into the fishbone design on his bodysuit, making him double over sharply. A quick series of kicks about his face and chest disoriented him, before a spinning side kick knocked the interloper away. As Fisheye bounced away from the assault, Chi-Chi briefly assumed her fighting stance again, only to run at Fisheye again, yelling loudly and defiantly.

 

* * *

 

 

                Gohan was still in the middle of his battle cry as he lunged at Fisheye before being warped away. He gasped and hastily corrected his flight, as he came at the rocky, barren ground at a 45-degree angle, shifting so he slid on impact, hunched over his bent right knee as he willed his body to stop. Grunting as he hopped back to his feet in a defensive stance, Gohan looked around at his surroundings. The familiar sight of a barren, rocky wasteland filled his vision. Rocks, dust, peaks, plateaus of varying shapes and sizes dotted the landscape. The hollow sound of the wind howling was the only other noise for miles. Given the redundant locales and lack of any real landmarks, Gohan had no idea where he was.

                He sighed as he looked at his surroundings. Apparently, his attacker didn’t know that much about him or what he was capable of. But, when he thought about it, that guy’s magic did feel… familiar, somehow. He went wide-eyed after a few moments. “Oh! That’s one of those… what was it? Dead Moon Circus?” he pondered out loud. “Yeah! One of those bad guys the Senshi were fighting!” Briefly he thought back to the day before, and how he had a very close encounter with one of them. The girl about his age with the bright pink hair. For a long moment, his thoughts lingered on the youngest Senshi of the group… Chibi Moon, was it? Wait, what was her real name? Oh, right…

                Chibi-Usa…

                The gratuitously pink Senshi had plowed into him like a ton of bricks, leveling him and making a mess of the storefront they had crashed into. But as his gaze held with hers as they recovered from the attack, time felt like it stood still. Sure, part of him wondered how someone could have naturally red eyes—the young half-breed not believing that her hair was also naturally pink—but he didn’t ponder on that long. Not with her soft, pleasant, almost too pure eyes fixed on his… that is, of course, until Sailor Moon sought her out and she jumped off of the wreckage—and him—like it suddenly became red hot.

                He was trying to pay attention the best he could as he, his dad, and his new brother discussed their next course of action with the other Senshi, but he could tell Chibi-Usa was sneaking looks at him the whole time. Not that he minded, except his only interactions with girls had been with his mom—which usually involved loud yelling and strict discipline—or Bulma—smart enough to know what she was talking about, but still leagues behind what she’s capable of. Simply put, a girl his age was paying attention to him, and he had no idea how to react to it.

                Shaking his head to clear his mind, Gohan took a deep breath and focused, his eyes closing. It still took him a bit to sense someone’s ki signatures, especially when they weren’t as strong as one of his dad’s friends and allies who could manifest an aura around them—every other layperson on the planet, in other words. Even worse, he was unable to sense the attacker’s magic in the same way, as the kind of magic he and the Senshi fought with was completely different from what they used. It was hard to locate his mom, his head turning in the general direction of a very brief, very faint spike of ki, but losing it very quickly.

                Suddenly, his eyes popped open in realization. “There’s dad!” he shouted. His ki surging around him, Gohan suddenly took off and flew in the direction he sensed his father’s energy coming from. Even more convenient, he was flying off in the direction of home. Getting home and helping mom—killing two birds with one stone. “Oh, man… I hope mom’s alright…”

 

* * *

 

 

                Fisheye’s idea of going after one of those martial artist friends of the Senshi was getting to be a worse and worse idea with every passing second.

                He barely had any time to react when his target broke free of the restraints and charged him, his body sharply doubling over from the kick landing square in his stomach. The next few kicks had come so fast he felt like he got whiplash, and he tumbled harshly over the ground as he was kicked away.

                And that was just the opening of his fight with the seemingly unassuming housewife.

                The acrobat shook his head as he tried to stand up, dizzy, and hurting all over. He tried throwing a few punches at the woman, but the first few were dodged, while his right hand was grabbed after the last punch, wherein he was pulled in to a sharp elbow strike right across his upper lip. In desperation, he even tried using the Dream Mirror revealing ritual on her again, but when he shouted “One!” and the slab shot up, Chi-Chi merely hopped onto it as it emerged, and used it as a catapult to launch herself at Fisheye, coming down on him with a spinning axe kick, her heel smacking into the top of his skull, flooring him.

                As Chi-Chi landed in a crouch, her right leg out in front of her and her left knee up to her chest, right hand guarding her face and her left stuck out straight over her left leg, she heard the familiar sounds of someone flying using their ki. She looked up and saw Goku stop his high-speed flight and drift down near her, a look of confusion on his face. “Chi-Chi?” he asked, seeing her stance. “What’s up—”

                Chi-Chi popped straight up to her feet in an instant. “Goku, this creep tried to attack me,” she explained, “and he did some kind of magic thing that made Gohan disappear!”

                “What?!” Goku shouted incredulously. He got into a fighting stance, looking over at Fisheye as he struggled to get to his feet.

                “Yeah! He tried sticking me to some… panel or something, that he conjured up out of the ground!”

                Goku paused, going wide-eyed. He knew what she was talking about from the Senshi’s explanation yesterday about how their enemies operate. Growling in anger, he sped over to Fisheye and threw an uppercut that sent him straight up into the air. Goku moved fast enough to look like he was teleporting, and threw a hard side kick that sent Fisheye back to the ground just as fast. He landed with a loud crash, bouncing from the impact, whereupon Goku snatched him up by his throat. “What do you want from us?” he shouted. “Fighting me is one thing, but going after my family, too?!”

                “We want…Pegas—ack!” Fisheye tried to say, only for Goku to tighten his grip.

                “And what have you done with my son? Where is he?!”

                Struggling for breath, Fisheye didn’t answer, instead brought his hand up near Goku’s face and snapping his fingers. In that instant, a blinding flash of light went off right in front of his eyes, temporarily blinding him, making him drop Fisheye as he rubbed his eyes with a pained groan.

                “You want to get handsy with me? Fine!” Fisheye retorted, looking at Goku, who was bent over, still rubbing his eyes. “One!”

                Goku’s arm snapped back with a hard backfist, shattering the slab as it tried to emerge behind him.

                “Oh, come on!” Fisheye whined. Goku by now straightened up, blinking a few more times to regain his focus. He was running out of ideas, and was considering just cutting his losses and fleeing. That is, until he felt another foot land on his back, making him stagger forward. Chi-Chi had her leg sticking straight out in a side kick while Fisheye lurched toward Goku, who then threw a front kick, sending him back the way he came. Seeing his flight path was a little higher than she anticipated, Chi-Chi hopped up and fell backward with an overhead kick, her foot landing right on Fisheye’s chin and launching him over her head, where he skidded face down along the ground for a few yards before coming to a stop, a crumpled heap on the grass.

                Goku walked over to Chi-Chi, who kip-upped back to her feet and turned to face the downed Fisheye. She didn’t see the bright smile that Goku had on his face. “You know,” he said to her, “this is actually pretty fun.” Chi-Chi didn’t have to glance back to _feel_ the big, dopey grin her husband was sporting.

                “He sent Gohan off to who-knows-where,” Chi-Chi retorted. “He’s dangerous!”

                Regardless, Goku was feeling fairly confident. “Yeah, but… how many times have we ever fought bad guys off like this?” His hands suddenly clamped down on Chi-Chi’s sides, making her let out a sound like a squawk as Goku easily lifted her off her feet.

                “Goku!” she shouted. “Put me down!” Throughout her complaining, she was indeed laughing at her husband’s playfulness. “Oh, ew, you’re all sweaty! Jeez, you stink! You need a bath!” she added, when Goku switched to fully embracing her, pulling her against his chest. After a moment, Goku obliged, setting Chi-Chi on her feet, the mollified woman chuckling a little nonetheless. “Ugh. Well, if you like fighting off bad guys with your wife so much, may I suggest we focus on the task at hand?” By now, Fisheye had managed to pull himself to his feet.

                Goku shrugged. “Sure. Let’s go!” They both took off towards Fisheye with a loud kiai.

                Fisheye waved his hand in a short arc. “Sleep.”

                They got all of five steps before they collapsed to the ground, completely asleep.

                Fisheye had to pause for a second, and take a good, long look at what happened. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing was real. He gasped, his hands running through his hair. The gasp soon gave way to relieved—but maniacal sounding—laughter.

                “Hahaha what?!” he shouted, looking back and forth at the couple, his heart beating a mile a minute. “Seriously?!” He blinked a few times. “That spell was little more than a cantrip, and yet you two went completely the hell to sleep?!” He shook his head ruefully. “Oh, this is just too good!” He walked over to the two, and kicked Goku in the side, eliciting no response from the Saiyan warrior. “Maybe now you’ll know to keep your hands to yourself, buster.” He then turned to Chi-Chi, who had wound up on her back as her unconscious body tumbled forward after being put under. “And as for you, honey…” He chuckled. “Honestly, your looks are the least of your issues, you ugly old crone. Now then…” He raised his hand, pointing two fingers straight up. Chi-Chi’s body shone briefly, before a Dream Mirror emerged hovering over her body, chest high to Fisheye. He stuck his head into the mirror, looking around, his body shifting in place while the unconscious Chi-Chi convulsed underneath him.

                Soon, Fisheye pulled his head out, running a hand through his hair. “Well, no sign of Pegasus in there…” he mused. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take pleasure in watching you two get devoured.” He lifted his hand, palm facing upward, willing his magic to come forth. A dark blob appeared in his hand, which soon shot up like a fountain, scattering into hundreds of tinier little blobs. They soon started elongating, the new longer appendages flapping like a bat’s wings, until they all took the shape of…

                Books.

                Books flitting around the air above the Son property, continuously pouring out as Fisheye chuckled darkly. He saw… _something_ move out of the corner of his eye, some kind of bright yellow blur. “What was that?” he asked himself, his attention drawn to the front door of the house. Before he could ponder on it anymore, he felt a sharp kick to the side of his head, followed by his body ragdolling away to his left side, where he landed in a heap. Pulling himself to his feet, he saw a familiar face land on his feet and stare him down. “Oh, damn it, I thought I got rid of you…”

                Gohan growled in anger as he assumed a fighting stance. “I’m gonna make you pay for what you’ve done!” he shouted. Before he could attack Fisheye again, he looked up and saw what looked like—flying books?—hovering around him and his downed parents. He did recognize the same dark energy permeating the air around them. It didn’t take him long to realize that these were lemures, like yesterday at the mall—lots of smaller ones instead of a singular entity, but they still could be trouble. Sparing one more defiant glance at Fisheye, he took off towards the horde, firing ki blasts from his hands, shooting down the individual little nightmares one by one. But as they drew close, they swarmed him, the kid wildly throwing punches and kicks to keep them at bay. After a few moments, he took off away from them, the initial burst of ki surrounding his body sending them scattering. He turned around and powered up with a yell, prepared to take on this threat to his home and his family.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ash did not sleep well last night.

                Well, sleep might be a generous description of what he did last night.

                After all the new furniture got set up and his and Gohan’s wardrobes all sorted out, Ash had felt himself slipping into the same ennui that had been hovering over him since his mother died. He tried to hide his crying from Gohan, not wanting him to bother him with his incessant nonsense, especially as much as he had been doing as of lately. It felt like everyone was already getting tired of him.

                He remembered nodding off as he lay on his freshly dressed and made bed, not coming to until it was well into the evening and everyone had gone to bed. Either they didn’t want to disturb him, to let him rest… or they were ignoring him. Ash would’ve believed either one at this point. Still, when did wake up, the first things he noticed were his shoes and socks removed and the former lined up right by the door, next to Gohan’s. The copy of _The Great Gatsby_ that Gohan told him about was neatly put on one of the desks. And his pajamas were folded up and set on the bed next to him. He still wore the green and yellow pajamas he had since before he left on his journey, though they were showing their age; the stitching around the sleeves was worn and one of the buttons had long since fallen off. The new ones he got were presumably in one of the drawers somewhere. Regardless, he had changed into them, careful not to disturb Gohan or Pikachu, and had slipped into bed.

                Only to lay in bed with his eyes closed, unable to actually fall asleep.

                This morning wasn’t as kind to him, as he had repeatedly tossed and turned throughout the night, unable to get comfortable or get any kind of real rest. He hadn’t felt Pikachu’s presence in his bed before he decided to just get up for the day, presuming he had run off to explore his new home. He rubbed his head as he sat up, letting his feet dangle over the edge of his bunk. However, feeling how tired he was made his hand go from his head to over his eyes, the kid groaning in disgust and fatigue.

                “Pika pi!”

                His eyes suddenly snapped open as he heard Pikachu run into the room, flailing his little forepaws as he looked up at Ash. “Huh? What is it?” he asked, trying to get his wits about him.

                “Pika, pika! Pikachu!” Pikachu continued to wave his arms up and down, and pointed out the door and into the hallway frantically.

                “Wait, something wrong? Outside?” He shuddered, now able to feel Pikachu’s anxiety and unease as he scampered off, calling out to him, presumably to follow. He gingerly hopped off the bed, landing on his feet, and made his way to the living room, and out the front door. “Alright, what am I looking at—huh?!” His question ended abruptly when he beheld the scene outside. Gohan was flying around and zapping what looked like flying books. Chi-Chi and Goku were unconscious, while a man dressed in powder blue from head to toe tried unsuccessfully to stop Gohan from stopping his familiars.

                “Pi ka, pika!” Pikachu shouted at him, getting Ash’s attention.

                “Wait, what?” Ash looked at Pikachu, and the things harassing Gohan back and forth. “It’s like… yesterday?” Ash’s eyes went wide. “Oh, right! Like those things those girls were fighting!”

                “Pikachu!”

                “Ash!”

                Ash and Pikachu looked up to see Gohan looking down them. “That guy put mom and dad to sleep! You gotta help them!”

                “Help?” he muttered. He then looked to Pikachu. “Try shocking Goku and Chi-Chi awake, Pikachu!”

                “Pi ka!” Pikachu shouted. He ran over to the two older people, and let out a yell as yellow lightning engulfed both of them. The two convulsed sharply, shouting in surprise at the sudden sensations, snapping them out of the magical slumber foisted upon them.

                “Bah! Ack! Just five more minutes!” Goku shouted, disoriented, looking around.

                “Ugh… that hurt…” Chi-Chi groused, rubbing the side of her head. Both looked at Pikachu, who was now pointing up.

                “Gohan!” Goku bellowed. His ki surged around him, and he took flight, joining his son in fighting the lemures.

                Chi-Chi saw Fisheye gawking at the group, surprised that not only did his sleep spell get broken, but the excursion out here was spiraling further and further downward. That’s when he saw Chi-Chi rush at him again.

                “Care to try your luck again?” she shouted, leaping at him with a flying side kick.

                “Yeah, no thanks. Bye!” he shouted, cutting his losses and disappearing. Chi-Chi flew through the spot where he was standing, landing in a crouch. With an irritated snap of her fingers, she ran back over to Ash, who was looking up at Goku and Gohan shooting off blasts of energy from their hands.

                By now, the group of lemures had split off into two, keeping both fighters occupied. Gohan dropped down, the lemures pursuing him. “Ash, get back ins—”

                “Pikachu! Hit those things with a Thunderbolt!” he shouted confidently.

                “Pika!” Pikachu shouted, electricity building around him.

                Gohan saw his brother order Pikachu to attack, and he stopped dead in his tracks, hovering in place, while the monsters flew right by him. They flew right into Pikachu’s electricity, which chained from one lemure to another, frying them. Many of the monsters disintegrated under the attack, while the few that remained shook and sputtered around, their flight hampered by their newfound paralysis.

                “Awesome!” Gohan shouted towards his brother. “Dad could use your help with that, too!”

                “What about those?” he asked, gawking and scrambling back as one got close, only for Pikachu to split it in half with an Iron Tail, destroying it.

                “I got it covered.” He grinned as energy formed in his hand.

                Nodding, Ash glanced at Pikachu, and ran from Gohan as he finished off the remainder of his lemures. He looked up and saw Goku darting all around, teleporting with his Instant Transmission, blasting the little flying nightmares one by one.

                “Pikachu?”

                Pikachu wasted no time, leaping in the air and firing off another Thunderbolt, which had much of the same effect on the rest of their enemies.

                Goku’s gaze followed the trail of lightning, and he nodded at Pikachu in acknowledgment. Then, seeing them momentarily stunned and vulnerable, Goku drew his hands back, bluish-white energy building in them. He was determined to finish this off with one more attack. “Ka-me-ha-me-HA!” He thrust his hands forward, and a column of blue-white energy shot out from his hands, disintegrating the remaining lemures. He held that stance for a few more moments before relaxing, and looked down to see how the rest of his family was doing. Seeing Chi-Chi hugging first Ash, then Gohan, Goku smiled, then drifted down to the ground to join them.

                “You guys alright?” he asked, looking them over.

                “Honestly, I think a normal door-to-door salesman might have been worse,” Chi-Chi groused, causing Goku and Gohan to chuckle at her joke.

                “We’ll have to tell Usagi and the others about this,” Goku added. “No doubt they’ll want to know what their foes have been up to.” He ran his hand over Gohan’s head, making the kid laugh playfully. “Thanks a lot, guys. You were a great help.” He then put his hand on Ash’s shoulder, who went wide-eyed and flinched at the sudden touch, regardless of the affection behind it. It didn’t stop Goku’s smile, though. “Both of you.” He chuckled a little. “Looks like they underestimated just how strong Pokémon could be, huh, son?”

                “U-uh…” Ash stared back at him, wide-eyed, dumbstruck. He muttered a few unintelligible syllables, his brain still trying to process what he was saying. “Y-yeah,” he managed to get out, averting his gaze. “I guess they did…”

                “Pika pi!” Pikachu squeaked, folding his arms indignantly as he looked up at him.

                “Yeah, I know how strong you are, Pikachu… it’s just…” He trailed off as discomfort built up in him again. This couldn’t get any more awkward.

                “Well, now that that’s that,” Goku interrupted, folding his arms behind his head with a big, dopey grin. “Chi-Chi, what’s for breakfast! I’m starving!”

                Chi-Chi, Gohan, Ash, and Pikachu crashed to the ground in a simultaneous loud face fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up.
> 
> I mean I seriously fucked up.
> 
> I had told myself I was going to keep plugging away with this after last November, that I was going to keep it going throughout the year afterward. But no. I didn't. I felt everything in my life turn to bleh and it became harder and harder to do anything that wasn't just going from day to day trying to survive, like I was on auto-pilot. I mean, sure, I had tons of ideas in my head and scenes I wanted to write out, but the motivation for it just...evaporated. I've felt like I've been in a hole that I can't entirely dig myself out of.
> 
> Hopefully, this year will be different.
> 
> Hopefully.
> 
> To those who have waited all this time for more, I'm deeply sorry you're just now getting a new chapter. And thank you for sticking by me.


	7. Is It Now

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by _Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama._

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

                Fisheye flopped down in his seat at the bar as he returned to the Dead Moon Circus’ bar, which only ever seemed to be occupied by the three of them. He panted heavily, his body still wracked with pain from his encounter with Goku and his family. He wearily held his head up with one hand, the other sticking out to his left side. The pile of photos—which looked larger and larger with every passing day—was only slightly disturbed by him taking his seat. The blue-haired member of the trio then reached his arms back, stretching them up and over his head, wincing as he heard a loud crack before slumping back to the bar.

                “Ugh… ow…” he muttered. He was in quite a bit of pain from the battle he had just been through, as being thrashed by those martial artists had taken a toll on him.

                “I’m going to guess things didn’t go well for you,” Hawk’s Eye said, rubbing his back, careful when he saw Fisheye wince.

                “That’s putting it lightly. I’ve seen civilian ‘fighters’ before, but those guys were something completely different!” Sure, potential victims tried to fight back, but they were versed in martial arts that were much lower quality than even their own combat training; the Trio knew how to fight hand to hand, but it was clear their strengths lie in magical arts, summoning lemures and letting them do the fighting for them. The civilian martial arts styles they knew permeated the world were either for sport, glorified exercise, had little application in actual fighting, or were forms of older, ancient martial arts that were so watered down as time passed that they were virtually useless. This was the first time someone could physically fight them off convincingly. Fisheye didn’t know how to react to this.

                “I thought you weren’t going after that guy who dropped in on the Senshi yesterday…” Hawk’s Eye stated.

                “I didn’t!” Fisheye retorted. “At least, I didn’t intend to!”

                Tiger’s Eye arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

                Fisheye reached for the pile of photos, snatching one up that had been set aside slightly. “Her,” he started, showing off the picture of his would-be victim. “I thought it was going to be easy, you know? Regardless if she bought any of my ‘merchandise,’ she should’ve been an easy target.”

                “So, what happened?” Hawk’s Eye asked.

                Irritated, Fisheye reached into the pile for another photo, and slapped it down hard on top of hers. “This guy happened!”

                Tiger’s Eye’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no…” he muttered, immediately recognizing him. He cringed, the fight from yesterday still fresh in his mind. He could still feel where his knee struck his face, and how much his entire body hurt from the fall. “Is that—”

                “This guy’s wife! Yes!” Fisheye blurted out. “And even worse, she stopped me from holding her down before extracting her Dream Mirror!”

                This wasn’t something they had seen before, either. “Wait, she did?”

                “They _both_ did!” Fisheye held his head in his hands. “She… she made some kind of aura shoot up all around her and broke free. But him? He just punched the slab and shattered it!”

                Tiger’s Eye waved his hand in a small circle, sloshing the dark liquor around in the highball glass he was holding. “Wow. That’s… that’s new.”

                “They usually respond with panic and fear when we get to them,” Hawk’s Eye mused. “What happened to set that woman off so quickly?”

                “Well, I was all set to pull out her Dream Mirror, when some kid tried to get the drop on me,” Fisheye explained. “I think he was her son, I’m guessing…” He shrugged. “I mean, she got super mad and all…”

                Tiger’s Eye groaned and quickly finished his drink, slamming the glass down on the bar. “Yeah, that’ll do it,” he groused.

                Fisheye continued. “By the time I know what’s what I’m getting slapped around by this big, sexy thing…” he groaned, tapping a finger against a picture of Goku. “I only even managed to get at one of their mirrors because they dropped completely asleep from one ‘sleep’ cantrip…”

                Both Hawk’s Eye and Tiger’s Eye gawked at him. “What?”

                “Seriously?” Tiger’s Eye added.

                “I said the same thing!” He shook his head, shrugging in disgust. “Then the kid comes back, he starts fighting off the lemure I summoned, the two of them wake up—”

                Hawk’s Eye blinked. “…how?”

                “This other kid told his big, bright yellow rat to electrocute them until they woke up.”

                Silence hung over the bar as Tiger’s Eye and Hawk’s Eye just stared at Fisheye.

                “What? Really? _That’s_ the part about this that you find hard to believe?!” He shook his head in disgust.

                “So, after that, what happened? You bailed?” Hawk’s Eye asked.

                “Had no choice. This whole endeavor was a major bust. All we figured out is that this woman didn’t have what we were looking for.” He crumpled up the photo in disgust, tossing it aside. “And that, of the four of them collectively, going after one will set off the other three. I’m not too keen on repeating that scenario if I don’t have to.”

                Tiger’s Eye turned his back to the bar, leaning against it, draping his forearms on them. “Wonder how many of these other civilians the Senshi have on their side…”

                The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. The three looked towards the far end of the bar, where Zirconia had manifested. “How many they have is irrelevant, for the time being,” she said. “But even fools such as yourself can take a lesson from your defeat…”

                “Such as…?” Fisheye asked.

                “Whatever would strain against the defenses of Sailor Moon and her kin would shatter the minds of these warriors in the blink of an eye.”

                Fisheye rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’ve figured that out already. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone get bested by a low-level spell so easily.”

                Zirconia’s smile widened. “The Senshi could improve their bodies and keep their minds strong still… but those warriors don’t have the capacity to empower their minds…”

 

* * *

* * *

 

                Usagi closed the door to her bedroom and let out a deep sigh. She walked over to her bed, flopping onto it, her eyes cast to the ceiling. Chibi-Usa was at Usagi’s desk, focusing on her homework.

                “What happened?” Luna asked as she got up from her seat on the windowsill.

                “I just got off the phone with Mamo-chan,” Usagi told her advisor. “He told me that the Dead Moon Circus attacked Goku and his family at home.” Being how he lived alone and had nobody else to hide his identity from, Mamoru agreed to be Goku’s primary contact, while he’d relay what Goku told him to the other Senshi.

                Luna’s tail perked up as she rose to stand on all four feet. “And?” she asked. “How did they make out?”

                “They’re fine. They managed to drive Fisheye off, but… they seemed kinda shaken up by it.” She shook her head. “Goku didn’t sound too bad, but…” She shrugged a little. “Apparently, Chi-Chi snapped when he came after Gohan.”

                Chibi-Usa’s eyes widened at the mention of Gohan. “What happened to him?”

                Usagi was taken aback by Chibi-Usa’s reaction. “Calm down, spore,” she chided. “He’s just fine. All he did was warp him away and try to peer into Chi-Chi’s Dream Mirror.”

                “They can do that?” Chibi-Usa blinked. “Where’d he send Gohan?”

                “He… he just teleported him off a couple of miles. Apparently, Fisheye didn’t count on any of them being able to fly—why are you so concerned about Goku’s kid all of a sudden?” She suddenly developed a coy, catlike grin on her face. “Aw, do you think he’s _cute_ or something?” she teased.

                Chibi-Usa let out a little strangled-sounding noise, her body stiffening up sharply at Usagi’s question. “What?! No!” Chibi-Usa denied feverishly, her face starting to turn the same shade as her hair.

                Usagi was standing up by now as she addressed her time-displaced daughter. “Is that why you were staring at him like a lost puppy all yesterday?” Usagi had a big grin on her face as she pushed Chibi-Usa’s buttons. “Aw… your first crush…”

                “Wh-what?” she managed to cough out. “Come on, Usagi! Can’t I be worried about him? I mean, he did help us out against Tiger’s Eye yesterday…”

                “So did Ash, and I don’t see you going all heart-eyes for him…”

                Chibi-Usa’s tone lowered and she folded her arms, looking away from Usagi. “Him? Please. He’s so stinking miserable…”

                “Chibi-Usa!” Luna snapped. “He just lost his mother and his home; you could be a little more sensitive!”

                “So?” she retorted, shrugging. “I’m over a thousand years in my past, and was sent back and told, ‘hey, go back and prevent a total societal collapse, please!’” She folded her arms, ignoring the gawking looks that Usagi and Luna were giving her. “You have no idea what it’s like being stuck back here! It’d be like if you suddenly were dropped back into the stone age!”

                “That doesn’t mean you can just brush off someone’s tragedy so flippantly, Chibi-Usa,” Usagi countered, the prior mood well and thoroughly killed. “Sheesh… when you were sent back, did they want you to learn humility, too?” A smack in the face from a pink spiralbound notebook stopped Usagi in her train of thought, sticking there for a few moments.

                “From who, you? Give me a break.” Chibi-Usa turned her head to the side, a sassy look on her face. “I have a hard time believing you even made it to high school in my time.”

                Growling in frustration, Usagi pulled the notebook from her face and had it bunched up in her hand. “You’re being more insufferable than usual, you little brat,” she warned. “I’m sure Gohan would love to hear what you said about his brother!”

                Chibi-Usa’s attitude immediately dropped. “You wouldn’t…”

                “Oh, really?” Usagi bent over at the waist, smirking confidently at Chibi-Usa, who had a panicked look on her face. “Yeah, how do you think Gohan would react if he heard that kind of talk about his brother, huh? Or even their dad, while we’re at it!” She only knew a little about Goku from their meeting yesterday, but she could tell some things about him already… namely that he was very slow to anger, but—she presumed—his bad side was powerful and terrible, and not something she wanted to be on the wrong end of.

                Chibi-Usa felt like she was sweating buckets at that.

                “Another way I can tell you like him,” Usagi added, “your hair and your face are the same color.”

                Her hands clutched together into tight little balls, Chibi-Usa let out a low, angry growl… that was suddenly cut off by Usagi’s communicator going off.

                “Ma—uh, Sailor Jupiter?” Usagi answered, correcting herself before she called her friend by her given name while she was in Senshi form. “What is it?”

                “Got a problem down at the Arcade—gah!” she shouted, her face disappearing from the little screen briefly as she dodged out of the way of an attack. The little screens on their communicators only gave them enough space for their heads to be seen and little else.

 

* * *

 

               “Dead Moon’s attacking again,” Sailor Jupiter started. She was knelt down out of the monster’s line of sight briefly; hopefully this would be enough time to call for backup. “They got the drop on Minako and sent one of their nightmares loose on the place! Everyone else is on the way, but you gotta get here quick!” Seeing the lemure looming over her, Jupiter leapt up with a loud shout and threw a punch right for its “head,” sending it reeling. When she glanced down at her communicator again, the screen had gone blank. She didn’t need confirmation that Usagi and Chibi-Usa were on their way.

                “What ever will you do now, Sailor Jupiter?” Hawk’s Eye called out from the front of the arcade, standing in front of the smashed windows. “Guess you and your little friend didn’t expect such a top-tier challenge today, did you?” He chuckled arrogantly. “You two are such scrubs!”

                Sailor Jupiter’s face bunched up in an enraged cringe. _Oh, by the gods, I’m gonna have to collapse this entire arcade on this bastard just to get him to stop the ridiculous gaming jokes, aren’t I?_ she thought to herself.

                The lemure du jour was vaguely insectoid, skittering around on six legs. Its body was comprised primarily of what looked like broken pieces of plastic and circuitry from the surroundings—that is to say, arcade cabinets, wires, switches, and the like. The dark, shadowy mass, like solidified darkness, could be seen glowing in the many cracks, creases, and seams where the material didn’t cover. Its eyes were comprised of two round, “gumball” style joysticks, making them more akin to eye stalks. The creature’s “teeth” were made of buttons from an arcade cabinet hosting a crazy popular new fighting game, _D.E.A.T.H M.U.G.E.N_ —a 2½D fighter whose main draw was players fighting four on four… simultaneously; minutes ago, had most of the patrons of the Crown Game Center gathered around it while Minako built up a 20-game winning streak—a record, for certain, had the machine and several others in the row not been smashed in the initial attack.

                Sailor Jupiter kipped-up to her feet, landing in a fighting stance. “I’ll send you back to the basement-tier to feed on the rats!” she retorted… then felt her lips bunching up reflexively, having been drawn into the pun making she was so badly trying to avoid.

                It was total happenstance that Makoto was even around the arcade in the first place, being drawn in not just by the bright posters for the new game in the window, but by Minako grinning like a madwoman and waving at her as she caught her looking in. Her last opponent had been just another gamer with shiny red hair slicked back perfectly. “You know, I’ve seen some sore losers come through here,” she bantered, dodging out of the way of one of the lemure’s swipes with its front leg; upon closer inspection, the bottom segment of said leg seemed to be composed of much smaller, fanned out legs. Either that, or the thing’s legs were just poorly assembled. “Why couldn’t you have just shouted like an impudent jerk and left, instead?” It reared back on its hind legs and tried to bring its front legs down on Makoto, who caught them in her hands. They spread apart slowly as she strained under the lemure, her teeth grit as she looked up at the monster. “Hell, I would’ve taken a double middle finger at this rate.” The lightning antenna housed in her tiara telescoped out on its own, and with a yell, it radiated a cloud of lightning right at its mouth. It let out a sound like a roar crossed with a gargle, and flew backward from the impact, crashing through what was left of the storefront.

                Seeing her enemy on her back and out for the moment, Sailor Jupiter ran over to Minako, helping her off the slab she had been secured to. The Dream Mirror didn’t hold Pegasus, much to Hawk’s Eye’s dismay, and it was easily restored to its rightful owner. “Minako, come on! Snap out of it!” Jupiter shouted, shaking her friend’s shoulders, trying to get her conscious again.

                “…more minutes Artemis…” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering open.

                Jupiter growled in frustration. She nearly got killed and she’s reacting like she’s trying not to wake up too early? “Come on, Sailor V! Or Venus! Or whatever will get you up on your feet—what?! Hey!” Jupiter felt something lash against her right forearm, and saw a long, thin tentacle made of cobbled together bits of wiring. She felt her arm tugged back, but she tensed up and grunted as she pulled back from it, every muscle in her arm starting to burn after a few moments.

                “Huh? What’s going on?” she heard Minako say. She suddenly became much more alert when she saw the wreckage around her. “Jupiter?”

                “That last guy you beat,” Sailor Jupiter explained. “Hawk’s Eye in disguise.”

                Minako grabbed for her transformation wand. “Should’ve known something was up when he didn’t scream something sexist or homophobic at me,” she muttered. As she called out her transformation, Jupiter was pulled towards the lemure, but instead of trying to fight back, she let it pull her in in the blink of an eye, reorienting her body so that both of her boots landed right on its face. The momentum caused the lemure to fly backwards out of the arcade and out onto the main street, though it still had its tentacle on Jupiter’s arm.

                She continued to pull on it, able to put more strength into her arm now that she had her vertical base, but nearly fell flat on her back as the tentacle was suddenly burned away, a fiery arrow passing right through the appendage. She looked to her right and saw Sailor Mars, her hands still drawn back from aiming and shooting her Flame Sniper at the lemure, while Sailor Mercury ran up a couple of steps behind, skidding to a halt next to her.

                Both Mercury and Mars dodged quickly as a wave of purplish-red fire was shot at hem. When they got to their feet again, they saw Hawk’s Eye shooting out several more similar blasts of fire, while the other Senshi retaliated with lightning or lasers. “Mercury?”

                Sailor Mercury didn’t have to be told twice. She took a mighty leap, her silhouette obscuring the sun for a moment, long enough to get Hawk’s Eye’s attention. As he aimed a stream of fire up at her, she fired a Shine Aqua Illusion down at it, the two magical attacks pushing into each other but making no headway. Soon the area around the Crown’s storefront was being inundated with a hot, cloying fog.

                “Didn’t think it’d take long for you all to show up,” Hawk’s Eye said with a confident smirk. “But where are your little moon companions? I thought you girls were playing a six-player game…”

                The immediate response from Sailor Jupiter was to yell out in rage and throw a broken, discarded stool from one of the rows of game cabinets at Hawk’s Eye, which was destroyed by the lemure just as quickly.

 

* * *

 

                “Okay, just warning you, I really have no idea how well this is going to work,” Luna muttered to Sailor Moon and Sailor Chibi-Moon.

                “We’ll never know until we try, will we, Luna?”

                Luna hung her head, meowing in irritation. “You got this idea from a comic book, Sailor Moon…” she muttered. “An American comic book, no less…”

                As it currently stood, the two other Inner Senshi were on a rooftop about a block away, poised several steps from the two-foot-high ledge that acted as a deterrent to stop things (or people) from falling off of the edge, watching the battle. Having the utmost faith in her fellow Senshi to take care of this attack, for the most part, Usagi thought this would be a perfect time for her to try out a new combination attack. This was why she held Chibi-Moon in her hands; her right hand held onto one of the soles of Chibi-Moon’s boots, while the younger Senshi, her knees drawn up to her chest, held onto Sailor Moon’s offered up left arm for support. The two had long since learned that being in Senshi form gave them physical strength and endurance they simply didn’t have as civilians. By that logic, Usagi thought, she should be able to support her Senshi in manners such as this.

                Of course, Chibi-Usa was the only one to know of this plan of Usagi’s, especially since Usagi may or may not have pressganged her into this little stunt. Being threatened with her telling Gohan what she thought of his brother was still lingering in the back of the girl’s head.

                But so was the notion that this was going to be _so awesome_.

                “Ready, Chibi-Moon?” Sailor Moon asked, confidently.

                “Just as long as your aim is steady,” Chibi-Moon responded, her fingers briefly tightening their grip.

                With a sharp exhale through her nose, Sailor Moon drew her hands back, while taking several fast steps towards the edge. Just as her foot neared the edge of the little wall, she flung her right hand forward. “Moon Meteorite Special!” she bellowed, launching the small Senshi. Much to Sailor Moon’s surprise and delight, Sailor Chibi-Moon took off like a bright pink bullet towards Hawk’s Eye. She had a wild grin on her face a second later.

                Luna let out a moan of irritation and confusion. “What…”

                “Wow! See, Luna?” she asked, turning to the cat briefly. “I told you it’d work!” She then leapt off the building in a power leap, making her way to the battle.

 

* * *

  

              Chibi-Usa was familiar with the concept of flight in her native time. While space travel hadn’t reached the point of triviality, she had known that planes had become much more efficient and clean, the technology having made commercial airplanes virtually fully carbon neutral. The point being she knew what it was like to fly.

                In an airplane.

                Being willfully thrown through the air like this, however, was not something she was familiar with. Sure, hopping from rooftop to rooftop and perfecting power leaps were things she learned to master easily in her “training” in this time, but flying through the air—that is, _launched_ at a target—was a new and exhilarating experience for the time-displaced princess.

                She was starting to like it.

                Briefly, she wondered if this was how Gohan and his dad felt when they flew around the way they did… and on their own, without any magical powers of their own. If it was always this much of a rush, feeling the wind blow over them to the point where it felt like it hurt. At least, that’s how Chibi-Moon was feeling it, her eyes squinting and blinking repeatedly as she was hurled to her target. When she saw Hawk’s Eye look in her direction—due to her shouting in exertion—she collided hard with him, her body crashing into his with a loud thud.

 

* * *

 

                All four Senshi winced at the hard slap sound that resounded when a body crashed into another body, and it wasn’t long after Hawk’s Eye hit the ground that they saw what had dropped him. Chibi-Moon had come in out of nowhere, tackled him (apparently) to the ground, and was currently kneeling atop him, her knees digging into his chest.

                “Chibi-Moon? Where did you come from?” Venus asked, the closest to Hawk’s Eye, her fist clenched around her Love-Me Chain as it ensnared the lemure.

                On the ground, Hawk’s Eye coughed loudly, the wind knocked out of him, and the weight of the little girl on his chest making breathing a bit difficult.

                Mercury was going over the data her visor had produced for her, consulting with her mini-computer as well. “Her velocity was very anomalous,” she said, glancing back up at the battlefield, noticing Chibi-Moon shaking her head out. “For her to hit Hawk’s Eye at such an angle and with her velocity, she had to have been thrown.”

                “But by who?” Mars asked. They then heard air whooshing as another figure landed on the battlefield. “Wait… Sailor Moon?”

                “Indeed! I am the pretty soldier in a—”

                “Wait, how did Chibi-Moon fly in like that? Did you…” Her voice lowered in indignation. “Did you _throw_ her?”

                “Yep! Worked like a charm!” Moon responded, flashing a V-sign at Mars, who merely slapped her forehead with her right hand.

                “Do you really think a small child could pin down an adult, Sailor Moon?” Mercury asked, still trying to be fully rational.

                Moon’s face fell as she blinked in confusion. She then spun around so quickly one of her pigtails whipped across Mars’ face. “Chibi-Moon! Don’t just sit there!” she shouted, ignoring Mars batting her hair away in irritation.

                “Right!” Chibi-Moon shouted, conjuring her Pink Moon Rod and aiming the heart-shaped crystal at Hawk’s Eye. “Pink Sugar Heart Attack!” she bellowed.

                Hawk’s Eye blinked as he saw the heart-shaped crystal flicker and light up as magical energy built up in it. “Wait, what—” What came out from the crystal was a stream of projectiles that looked like pink wireframe hearts. There was less than an inch in between each projectile as they pulsed outward and into Hawk’s Eye’s face. “Hey! What!? Ow! Ack! Ooh! Oof! Ugh! Stop that!” Unfortunately for everyone involved, the attack was rather weak, and to the Dead Moon minion, each one hit him like a slap in the face—discomforting, but ultimately ineffective.

 

* * *

 

                Luna put a paw over her face, her eyes screwed shut as she yowled in disgust. “Oh, by the gods, they didn’t think this through at all …” she muttered.

 

* * *

 

                “Welp,” Jupiter muttered. “Here it is. A new low point for the Sailor Senshi.”

                “Well… gotta give her credit for trying, right?” Venus countered, trying to look on the bright side of… whatever Usagi’s end goal was for turning another Senshi into a projectile. Jupiter just glared at her in disapproval.

                Hawk’s Eye had enough of being humiliated and taunted by the Senshi. “Enough!” he shouted, putting his hands out in front of Chibi-Moon and channeling his magic into them. A ball of purple fire exploded in front of her, sending the pink Senshi off of him with a wild, pained scream from her. As Chibi-Moon’s flight path hit its peak, the lemure opened its mouth and fired a blast of dark magical energy at it, its erratic shape and black and white patterns making it look like CRT TV static. Before it could hit its mark, a black blur shot out from nowhere and absconded with the lemure’s target, leaving the blast to fly off and hit the wall.

                “Tuxedo Mask!” Sailor Moon shouted.

                Indeed, Tuxedo Mask was standing atop a street light, holding Chibi-Moon in his arms, while she clung to him tightly. “Sailor Moon, this has dragged on long enough,” he told her. “Finish it off!”

                The Spiral Heart Moon Rod had materialized in her hand before Tuxedo Mask finished his declaration. “Don’t have to tell me twice!” she shouted. “Moon Spiral Heart Attack!”

                In its death throes, the lemure’s death knell was akin to the sound of a dial-up modem, which somehow sounded even more distorted as its body disintegrated, leaving only a few charred, smoldering pieces of plastic in its wake.

                Seeing his attack was a wash aside from some property damage, Hawk’s Eye tried to get away, crawling away at first until he tried to get to his feet. That’s when he felt Venus’ Love-Me Chain ensnare around his neck. His body flew back sharply as Venus pulled on it, leaving him to fall on his ass while the Senshi approached.

                “And just where do you think you’re going?” Venus asked, her fist clenched tightly around the end of the chain. He felt Venus put a foot on his chest, wincing as she ground her heel into him briefly. “What’s the matter, can’t take being beaten by a girl twice in one day?” She chuckled haughtily. “You’re just like those little trolls who kept spewing hate all day long.” She rubbed the index finger of her free hand over her chin. “Though not nearly as much chauvinism, oddly,” she pondered.

                “You stuck out like a sore thumb, Venus,” Hawk’s Eye retorted, tugging on the chain to alleviate the pull on his neck. “You see a girl in an arcade, she’s either clinging to her man or looking around lost, like she doesn’t know where the kitchen—”

                A sound like a gunshot rang out, and Hawk’s Eye could feel the ground crack under him. His ranting stopped suddenly as he looked down, and saw a long-stemmed rose stuck in the concrete right between his legs, dangerously close to his crotch. He looked past Venus and saw Tuxedo Mask looking at him, the other Senshi on their guard as they approached cautiously. Hawk’s Eye whimpered in shock. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes behind the mask, but he could tell they were fixed in a dangerous glare… aimed right at him.

                “And there’s the sexism, right on time,” Venus groused, tugging on the chain again. “Now on your feet, you callous dog!”

                The captured man’s eye twitched, and he growled in growing frustration. “You… damn you…” he grumbled. The Senshi could feel magical power welling up in him.

                “Venus! Watch out!” Mars shouted.

                Sailor Venus saw Hawk’s Eye’s body glow briefly, and she abandoned the chain and jumped backward, just as a torrent of fire erupted around him. The concrete melted and fused into glass as the fire roared. Several seconds later, the fire died out, and Hawk’s Eye had disappeared.

                “And he got away,” Jupiter said, folding her arms as she observed the melted, fused concrete where Hawk’s Eye previously lay. She looked back at the front of the arcade, and the street in front of it, observing the damage that had accumulated. “Well, as long as no one else seriously got hurt… that’s all that matters.”

                “And the Dead Moon is no closer to achieving their goals,” Mercury added. “Sometimes I wonder if they’re instigating these kinds of attacks to strain at our spirts and dampen our morale.”

                Sailor Mars, meanwhile, ran a hand through her hair in disgust. “You tell me,” she mumbled, having gotten Jupiter’s and Mercury’s attention.

                Sailor Moon had slipped to her knees, her feet pointing outward at near right angles, as she beheld the wrecked interior and outer façade of the Crown Game Center. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears that were building up. She then suddenly threw her head back and let out a loud, piercing wail as tears poured from her eyes like fire hoses. “It’s completely ruined!” she cried loudly. “Now what’ll I do in the afternoons when school lets out?!”

                Sailor Mercury let out a nervous chuckle. “You could… focus on your studies, Sailor Moon?” she suggested. Her question seemed to go unacknowledged by the hysterical Sailor Moon, especially since she didn’t exactly raise her voice to ask her. Then again, when Usagi got into this state, it took a great deal to bring her out of it.

                By now, Sailor Mars had run both hands over her face and up to her hairline, to the point where it looked like she would rip her hair clean out of her skull. A look of abject revulsion graced her face. “Oh my god, Sailor Moon, you’re embarrassing,” she stated.

                “This is why the owners have insurance!” Sailor Venus added, but gave up trying to talk over Sailor Moon’s wailing, pressing her index finger and thumb against her sinuses. “Honestly. I’m upset the arcade’s smashed, too, but you don’t hear me going off about it like this…”

                Sailor Chibi-Moon’s fixed glare held on Sailor Moon for a few moments before she simply hung her head. “Tell me again why I came back to the past?” she muttered.

                “Sailor Moon’s heart is always in the right place,” Tuxedo Mask assured her, “even if her mind always isn’t. You seem to forget she’s little more than a child herself at this point in her life. And not everyone matures at the same rate. Some people’s lives delay their growth a bit; others go through events that force one to grow up much more quickly than the norm.” He looked down at his time-displaced daughter, smiling warmly at her. Chibi-Moon, in turn, nodded, though averting her gaze, not wanting to admit that he was right.

                She pondered Tuxedo Mask’s words a little bit. Granted, her initial clinging to him was due to screwing with Usagi in regards to how much she clung to him, but she did look up to and respect him. Being saved by him more times than she wanted to admit—especially with her low-level powers when compared to the other Senshi—certainly helped in that regard. But what he said about being forced to grow up due to their circumstances… was he talking about her? About Sailor Moon? Or did he mean—

                The sound of glass crinkling underfoot resounded like a lightning strike, immediately getting everyone’s attention. Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury gasped and got into fighting stances. Sailor Moon immediately stopped crying and hopped back to her feet in the blink of an eye. Tuxedo Mask instantly put himself in between the source of the noise and Chibi-Moon.

                “Hello? Is anyone out there?” a male voice called out.

                Inside, a man looked around what was left of the main lobby of the arcade, the office door behind him opened enough to let him out. He was skittishly moving about, in shock at the damage done to the place, and not wanting to injure himself on some piece of broken equipment. The man was about the same height as Tuxedo Mask, albeit blond. He wore a button-down shirt and dark slacks, which were covered by a blue and white striped apron. He moved closer to the front of the store, and paused when he saw who was standing outside. “Oh, thank god, Sailor Moon…” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. The gathered Senshi followed suit.

                “Motoki? Are you alright?” Tuxedo Mask asked as he approached.

                “Yeah, I’ll be alright, Ma—er, uh—Tuxedo Mask…” he started. “As soon as I heard the fighting, I holed up in the office. Everyone else ran off, I think…”

                “We haven’t had any signs of civilian casualties anywhere, so they’re probably fine,” Tuxedo Mask reassured him.

                Sailor Moon had her hands clutched together against her chest as she suddenly appeared next to Tuxedo Mask. “Oh, Motoki, I’m so sorry…” she moaned. “Your family’s arcade got totally trashed!”

                Motoki let out a bemused chuckle. “It’s… quite alright, Sailor Moon,” he told her. “This is why we have insurance, after all.”

                “Told you!” Venus shouted from outside, only getting a glance back from Sailor Moon.

                “Still… are you going to be alright?” Sailor Moon asked Motoki.

                “I… yeah, I’ll be alright,” he said. “I’m just gonna go sit down and… wrap my head around all this…”

                Tuxedo Mask nodded. “Then we’ll be on our way,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”

                “I hope everything gets fixed up soon!” Sailor Moon called out to him as she exited. In a flash, all seven of them had jumped away, leaving Motoki to himself.

                Motoki let out a deep groan as he walked back into the office, not bothering to close the door. Not like there was anything around worth fighting over anyhow. Most of the cabinets were smashed, the ceiling was torn up, a bunch of the lights were broken with a few hanging from the ceiling, and the lights that were still solid flickered on and off. He flopped lazily onto the green futon in the middle of the room, his arms over his head as he took a few breaths, trying to steady his pounding heart. _Those things could’ve easily come after me,_ he thought. _That could’ve been me hanging on for dear life. And they even got the drop on one of the Sailor Senshi._ His eyes widened briefly. _If the other Senshi hadn’t intervened…_ He shuddered sharply, not wanting to think about what fate could’ve befallen him.

                Perhaps he should be lucky the arcade getting trashed was the _worst_ thing that happened to him tonight.

                He didn’t have long to rest as he saw the lights from police cars flashing into the arcade from outside.


	8. I Put a Spell on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written during NaNoWriMo 2017, published towards the end of the month

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by _Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama._

The _Pokémon_ franchise is owned by Game Freak, TV Tokyo, Nintendo International, and Satoshi Tajiri.

Please support all official releases.

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* * *

 

                The very next day, things had returned to relative normal around the Crown Game Center.

                A construction crew was breaking up the melted and glassed chunk of pavement and were working to replace it with a freshly paved section of concrete. The front had been swept of debris and broken glass from the fight the day before. A rented dumpster was stationed off to the side of the building, and workers, including Motoki, regularly walked out of the building with armfuls or bags of debris from inside, and tossed it inside, only to go back and clean up even more. The shutters had been pulled down over the windows and the main entrance, with a message declaring that they would be closed until further notice while they repaired the damage they had suffered.

                Usagi was, of course, highly upset that the arcade had been closed down; her walk to the Hikawa shrine after school went by it, and she had moaned considerably in sorrow and misery, and had to be cheered up by Ami—and coaxed along by Luna—to head to their destination. Before long, they were on the shrine grounds and had met up with Rei, in her priestess robes, idly sweeping up one of the paths as they entered. The others hadn’t arrived yet, leaving the three to themselves for a bit.

                Ami had let slip to Rei about Usagi’s reaction to the arcade being closed down for repairs. She idly did her homework, compounding her distance ahead of the rest of the class in terms of chapters, while the familiar sounds of Usagi and Rei bickering turned into background noise to her. “Honestly, Usagi, you can be completely incorrigible sometimes,” Rei muttered, folding her arms as she sat down at a low table.

                “Rei!” Usagi whined, slumping forward, her chin on the low table. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

                Motoki’s family got their livelihood destroyed and the only thing you care about is that you can’t go play video games there!”

  
                “Come on, Rei,” Usagi protested. “I mean, when you think about it, all the major stuff has been taken care of and there’s little else to worry about.”

                “Like what?”

                Usagi straightened up and shrugged. “We were there; we kept everyone safe, for one.” Rei merely arched an eyebrow, not totally convinced. “And besides, they have insurance!” She paused, glancing at the two of them. “…right?”

                “Presumably, yes,” Ami said, glancing up from her notebook. “Anywhere else in the world, and they would have a difficult time getting their claim processed,” she pondered. “Then again, where else can people say that attacks from otherworldly entities happen on a semi-regular basis?”

                Usagi nodded quickly. “And Motoki said so himself that they have insurance! So, what’s left for anyone to worry about but getting their business back up and running?”

                Rei was silent for a while, only to sigh in irritation. Scatterbrained as she could be, Usagi had clearly thought this through for at least some amount of time. “You just want to play video games and ogle the guys working there instead of doing anything else after school.”

                “I do not!” she shouted. Her voice suddenly snapped back to a lower, more normal tone. “Also: I have Mamo-chan, so what do I want or need other guys for?”

                Rei’s eyes widened, but a smirk soon formed on her mouth. “Oh? And you think nothing of Motoki? Is that it?” she retorted, chuckling. “How do you think he’d feel if he found out you thought he was old news? Yesterday’s garbage?”

                “Oh, now you’re just doing that on purpose!” Usagi wailed, eliciting a chuckle from Rei.

                As the two bickered, Luna had moved onto the table and was sitting near Ami as she did her homework. “It never ends with them, does it?”

                “Honestly, I would be more suspicious if they stopped doing this,” Ami told the cat.

                It wasn’t long after that when they were joined by Makoto and Minako, with Artemis on her shoulder. They paused at the doorway, lingering there long enough for Chibi-Usa to come in, having taken a bus to the shrine after her own school day let out. “Guardians and saviors of the planet Earth, everybody,” Minako murmured, just loud enough to be heard in the doorway.

                “It’s just another weekday afternoon for the Sailor Senshi,” Makoto answered.

                Seeing everyone assembled, Luna stood up straight. “If we could, please…” she started. “I want to discuss what happened yesterday…”

                The others sat down around the table, while Rei and Usagi stopped their bickering. That didn’t stop Usagi from sticking her tongue out at Rei when their gazes briefly met, which Rei was glad to return.

                “Yeah, especially with you, Minako,” Artemis added. “What happened before you got attacked by Hawk’s Eye?”

                Minako shrugged a little, having all the time in the world to replay the events of yesterday in her head. “I… well, I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, just hanging out in the arcade.” She suddenly got much louder, holding out her clutched fist in excitement and confidence. “And absolutely _killing it_ in D.E.A.T.H M.U.G.E.N!” Everyone else flinched at her sudden shift in tone and volume, especially as she waved her fist in the air wildly. “Wrecking scrubs like it’s nobody’s business! Chaos and bodies as far as the eye can see! Let’s freaking _go_!” By the time she stopped, everyone else had recoiled or taken cover in mock fear over Minako bragging about her gaming skill.

                “Yeah, because this isn’t serious or anything,” Chibi-Usa muttered, digging in her ear with her pinkie, while Usagi slowly and cautiously poked her head up from underneath the table.

                “Oh, come off it, Rei,” Minako retorted. “After yesterday, I’d be glued to the cabinet, if given the chance.”

                “Nothing wrong in seeking out some kind of catharsis for such a trying incident,” Ami added, having merely held up her notebook when Minako went off. “What was it like, anyway? Having, well…”

                “Certainly not something I’d want to experience again,” she started. “I mean, I had always imagined being, well, tied up something like that, but not, like… _that_ that. You know?”

                Everyone else was gawking at her, while Chibi-Usa struggled to dislodge Usagi’s hands from over her ears.

                “Anyway…” Luna started, slowly. “What we were trying to ask was… what was going on when your Dream Mirror was exposed the way it was?”

                “Oh, don’t get me started,” Minako groused. “It was, excuse the pun, like a nightmare. It felt like I was watching everything in third person, watching myself slowly wither and die.” She looked at Makoto. “Good thing you stopped by when you did; I don’t think anyone else would’ve gotten there in time if they didn’t.”

                “Good thing I bit the bullet and listened when you called me in,” Makoto responded, shaking her head with a small grin. “What were you playing, anyway?”

                Minako’s mood brightened immediately. “Oh, that? Some friend of Motoki’s was showing off a homebrew of M.U.G.E.N that let 4 characters per player fight at once. Good stuff, too; no lag, no slowdown, no weird flickering, nothing like that!”

                “Home… brew?” Luna asked, tilting her head a little. As much as she and Artemis used modern technology to communicate, there were parts of it that she couldn’t fully comprehend, as though the advancement of technology—and for such trivial things, to boot—especially when compared to their primarily magic powered ancient civilization, clashed horribly with what she knew. “What…?”

                Minako waved a finger confidently. “A homebrew… is a brew that you make at home!”

                Everyone else just kind of looked at her. Artemis’ ears flattened against his head as he glared at her, the disgust palpable on his face.

                She laughed playfully. “Just kidding! It’s a customizable fighting game engine that people make their own characters and backgrounds for.”

                “So… people use copyrighted names and characters for their own purposes?” Ami asked. “And they were charging money for it? That has to raise all sorts of legal red flags…”

                Minako waved it off. “Oh, it was fine. It was the only one of its kind, and the cabinet the software was set up on was set to free play. And they weren’t using that cabinet for anything else anyhow. It’s all good!”

                “Well, regardless of Minako’s… _gaming_ … habits…” Luna interjected, feeling like she was gagging on the word, “we need to consider our enemy’s actions as of late.” She looked at the assembled Senshi. “Granted, what happened yesterday was, by our perspective, just another monster attack. But given how soundly they were beaten here, and how they were so convincingly beaten by Goku and his family earlier, their morale has to be seriously hurting.”

                “I know, right?” Makoto added, smirking. “Who would’ve thought even Goku’s wife would be strong enough to kick one of the Trio around?”

                “Yes, well… we’ve heard of what the price of that is, in exchange.” She shook her head. “Just one low-level spell.”

                “Might’ve made you guys drowsy, maybe,” Artemis added. “But with them?” He gestured with his paw to indicate a person falling down completely out.

                “We each have our own strengths and weaknesses to think about,” Usagi added. “And we gotta hope that the Dead Moon doesn’t try to go after Goku’s family again. They’re way out in the country, like… what, how many hours from the nearest city?”

                “At least an hour, I think,” Ami added.

                “Why would it be a problem for them to get out here?” Chibi-Usa asked. “Can’t they fly?”

                “Only Goku and Gohan can, yes,” Luna said. “Regardless, they couldn’t abandon Chi-Chi or Ash, especially since the former wouldn’t be able to defend herself for long, should the Dead Moon get serious in dealing with them.” The mention of the latter’s name made Chibi-Usa roll her eyes, a gesture that only Usagi really noticed.

                “I dunno, Goku seemed pretty thrilled telling me about how his kids helped him out,” came a male voice from the doorway. Mamoru leaned against the doorframe as Usagi and Chibi-Usa ran up to him, throwing their arms around him, causing him to grunt in surprise from the impacts. “Apparently that little Pikachu helped fend off Fisheye’s lemure as well. Said it shot out lightning at them, just before he finished them all off.”

                “So, there’s two supernaturally powered martial artists, as well as a kid who has all sorts of creatures who can wield different elements…” Rei pondered. “Are you sure he needs our help?”

                “What about other people on Goku’s side?” Chibi-Usa asked. “Doesn’t he have friends helping him out, too?”

* * *

* * *

 

                Ash was exploring the area that Goku’s home sat on, trying to familiarize himself with the new environs. All he knew was that Goku and Chi-Chi lived well off the proverbial grid, but the kid wasn't prepared for just how far out in the country he was.

                From what he was told by his new family—and it was still fairly weird to refer to them as that, even in his head—they lived in the shadow of what was called Mount Paozu. A forest ringed the base of the mountain, the sounds of wildlife audible almost as soon as one entered it. He had walked the road leading down from their house, which he was now able to better discern the location of—Goku’s house sat on a ledge overlooking a big part of the forest. A few bluffs stuck out of the wooded areas, the vegetation looking like moss creeping up a rock, but on a larger scale.

                For a while, Ash, with Pikachu on his shoulder, walked along the banks of a river rushing through the forest, the water flowing in the opposite direction of him walking. Had he not known any better, he would expect to see Pokémon in the area, milling about, observing the human visitor and his trained Pokémon, perhaps even waiting to be captured themselves. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ash felt relaxed. He was able to walk around with no other distractions, the familiar weight of Pikachu on his shoulder as he basked in the natural beauty around him. He wasn’t screaming inside his own head, feeling like he was going to break down crying any moment, or reflexively recoiling at any kind of physical contact with anyone.

                Walking out in the woods like this… it felt like he was back on his Pokémon journey.

                Except, that… it wasn’t. For obvious reasons.

                Letting out a sigh, Ash kept walking until he came across a large rock jutting out of the river. He hopped up onto it, sitting down, facing the river. Pikachu hopped off his shoulder and lay down on his belly next to him, his paws drawn under his body. The water looked clean enough, practically crystal clear, but drinking it didn’t even come remotely close to crossing his mind. He had received that lecture before—who cares how clean it looks, it’s untreated and probably crawling with disease, parasites, and who the hell knows what else. Brock had made it a very strong point for all of them to have their own water purifier kit in with their supplies. None of them ever got sick from it, but his descriptions of what would happen due to drinking untreated water were not something Ash wanted to experience. A headstrong as he was with mostly anything else, things that would make him frightfully ill he stayed clear away from.

                Still… the image and sounds of the rushing water, the light filtering in through the forest canopy, it was all very relaxing and idyllic. He felt he could just hop in the river and float off himself.

                Of course, part of him wondered just how deep the river was, or if there was something special in the water, due to the size of the fish that he could see swimming in the river. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at them. “You see that, too, right, Pikachu?” he asked, glancing at his first Pokémon.

                “Pika…” he cooed out, moving to the edge of the rock next to Ash and looking down in the water. There were numerous dark blobs below the surface of the water, and occasionally Ash could see a fin protruding through the water’s surface. After a little while, a large fish broke through the surface of the water, jumping through the air, only to splash back down about twenty feet from where it broke through. It was easily bigger than himself, that was for sure. Ash could only imagine how much those things weighed. They could certainly keep someone well fed for quite a long time, though, that was for sure.

                Or, for one meal, given how much Goku ate.

                By now, Ash had lay back on the rock, trying looking up at the forest canopy, his eyes occasionally glancing back and forth at the spots where the sun filtered downward. He shifted his body, trying to move further up on it, afraid of slipping off of it and falling into the water. It was bad enough he thought about how dangerous it could be consuming it; he didn’t want to think about getting swept up by the current. Regardless, he almost fell off the rock anyway when he heard what sounded like a low flying jet flying overhead, shaking numerous branches and blowing off a whole bunch of leaves.

                “The hell was that?” Ash asked, looking back over his shoulder at where the plane (he assumed) flew off to. He looked over at Pikachu, who had run a few yards away from Ash, towards the source of the sound. He watched as the little mouse Pokémon’s ears twitched randomly, listening for anything... peculiar. “Wait… isn’t that where Goku’s house is?” he asked himself.

                “Pika pi!” Pikachu interrupted, turning to face Ash, waving his front paws at him. “Pika chu!”

                Ash looked at Pikachu, up at the sky, and then back at Pikachu. “You thought you heard Goku shouting at somebody?”

                “Pika!”

                Ash paused as he heard what sounded like a sonic boom, the foliage above him rustling loudly for a moment. He looked at Pikachu again. “You think they’re being attacked again?”

                “Pikachu!” Pikachu shouted, running back over to Ash.

                Ash’s breathing paused as he ran a hand through his hair. With a deep sigh, he shook his head. “Something may have happened,” he told Pikachu. “We gotta head back!”

                “Pika chu?” Pikachu added, hopping up onto Ash’s shoulder.

                “I have no idea at this point. But we gotta at least try to do something, otherwise we might end up having to live out here!” He got no further objection from Pikachu as Ash ran off.

* * *

 

                It took Ash some time to get out of the forest at the foot of Mount Paozu, and it wasn’t nearly as easy as the walk in. The wildlife was unlike anything he had seen before, the kid too used to seeing wild Pokémon while out in the wilderness. He wasn’t expecting to see actual dinosaurs roaring at him and Pikachu, and came dangerously close to being slashed wide open by at least one of them. Thankfully, Pikachu’s Thunderbolts were enough to drop each one in short order. By the time he saw the clearing where had originally entered, he heard a loud yowl coming from behind him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw an orangish-brown sabretooth tiger bearing down on him. After a loud shout of surprise and panic, Ash’s running speed all but doubled, but the tiger was still gaining on him. “Pikachu!” he managed to get out. The electric mouse Pokémon cut loose with a Thunderbolt that struck the tiger right in its open mouth, directly on its massive front teeth. Electricity coursed throughout its body for several long, painful seconds. When the electricity cut off, the tiger dropped to the ground, unconscious and smoldering.

                A few minutes after that confrontation, Ash emerged from the forest and out into an open field. He could see the road leading out into the far distance going up the mountain to Goku’s home, and took a moment to catch his breath. A few moments later, he saw something flash in the sky above his new home… which was accompanied by another sonic boom-like sound a half a second later. “Guess we know where we’re going, huh, Pikachu?” he said, both he and his Pokémon running up the road towards Goku’s house. He flinched as he heard several more of those bursts, which were accompanied by some… _things_ moving at very high speeds… too fast for Ash to follow. The bursts of sound and brief flashes of light accompanying them continued as he ran up the path to the house, the kid panting as he crested the hill and looked up at what was causing the commotion. What he saw made him and Pikachu gasp in surprise.

                Goku was zipping back and forth in the sky over the house, trading blows with something primarily purple and white. The being Goku was fighting had on a long, white cape that fluttered about behind him, snapping sharply with every punch or kick he threw.

                Ash watched the scene with wide eyes and a slightly slacked jaw. Granted, he was told that Goku was a capable fighter, but he hadn’t seen him fight anyone… like that. Someone who could keep up with him in such a way. The Dead Moon people were dangerous, but one blow could severely injure their much weaker bodies; here, though, Goku was trading punches and kicks with something that could dish them out as easily as he could take them.

                Soon, though… a million different thoughts started swirling around Ash’s already turbulent mind. What if this guy was stronger than Goku? What if something bad happened to Goku right on his own property, with his home in spitting distance? What if… he got killed because Ash could’ve done something to intervene but didn’t?

                He didn’t want to think about that any longer.

                “Pikachu, hit that green guy with your Thunder!” he called out.

                Nodding, Pikachu leapt into the air, jumping as hard as he could to close the distance between him and his quarry. Electrical energy built up all around Pikachu, engulfing his body for several seconds before he let it loose with a loud yell. It hit its target with the force and sound of a normal bolt of lightning. The green man yelled and shook wildly, his limbs flailing in all directions… but all it did was make him slump over in place, while both he and Goku turned to look at Pikachu.

                Pikachu, meanwhile, spun so he landed on all fours, looking up at Goku and the other green guy, who seemed more mildly irritated than anything else. Ash looked shocked as well, seeing how one of Pikachu’s more powerful electric attacks didn’t immediately knock him out of the sky. Well, the green man was falling, alright, but of his own power, calmly floating to the ground to stand in before him. And Ash had to crane his head upward to get a better look at him.

                This guy had to be at least seven feet tall, his face fixed in a hard scowl that made Ash shudder. His ears were long and pointed, and his limbs were sinewy, with pink patches on his biceps and forearms, outlining his muscles. The cloak draped off the back of a huge mantle, the spaulders sticking out a couple feet from his shoulders. His clothing was dark blue, almost purple, the sash around his waist the same shade of blue as the sky. The “shoes” on his feet looked like they were made from repurposed burlap sacks.

                “First off… credit where credit’s due,” the green man started, “I didn’t expect such a powerful attack to come from that little… thing… whatever it is…” He slowly folded his arms as he looked down at the two of them. “But I’m not so easily defeated. If you’re gonna stand a chance against me, both you, and your, um…”

                “Pikachu.” Ash said almost on reflex.

                “Your Pikachu, sure…” He cleared his throat. “If you think you can beat me, you’re going to have to try _a lot_ harder than that.” The green man unfolded his arms, and was settling into a fighting stance, making Ash gasp in surprise.

                It wasn’t until Goku intervened that he stopped. “Hey, Piccolo, give him a break,” he said, putting a hand on his mantle, causing Piccolo pause, glancing at Goku. “He didn’t know what was going on.”

                “Y-yeah,” Ash started, feeling spurred on now that someone was sticking up for him. His gaze softened as he briefly looked away, his brain trying to process that. Back with his actual father, anyone arguing with him would barely get a word in edgewise, much less be able to push back against him, as loud and… _angry_ as he always seemed to be. Here, though, Goku came to his aid without a moment’s hesitation. “I-I…” He looked at Goku. “I thought you were getting attacked… like what happened yesterday…”

                Goku put up his hands placatingly. “Heh heh… sorry if our sparring worried you, son…”

                Piccolo looked at Goku. “Wait, what happened yesterday?”

                “Some guy from the Dead Moon attacked Chi-Chi and we all had to put a stop to him,” Ash explained.

                The tall, green man’s face crumpled in confusion. “The hell is a dead moon?”

                Ash blinked. “Oh, right. That’s their name. The Dead Moon Circus.”

                He looked down at the young boy, still confused. “Dead… Moon… Circus? The hell is that? What, does the moon have a circus full of zombies or something like that?”

                Ash just kind of looked at the tall, alien looking man.

                He spared a glance up at the sky. “Also, I thought we didn’t have a moon anymore…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not about to tell anyone that he blew up the moon to get Gohan to come down from his rampaging Oozaru form.

                Pikachu chirped in surprise at the man’s statement. “This world doesn’t have a moon?”

                The green stranger looked back down at Ash, and although he didn’t actually have eyebrows, he could see the muscle straining as it “arched.” “Hold on, what? ‘This world’? What’s that mean?”

                Goku let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “Okay, then… it’s clear that some of us may be missing some rather vital information…”

                “Yeah, probably,” Piccolo said sarcastically. “Usually when I’ve been excluded from the loop this badly, I wind up pulling myself out of a freshly made hole in the ground.”

                Now it was Ash’s turn to not know what someone was talking about. “How…”

                The green man cut him off again. “Someone who has an axe to grind with Goku usually likes to go after his friends first.”

                As the three spoke, the front door of the house opened, and Gohan stood in the doorway, clad in some of the new clothes from yesterday. “Hey, dad? Mom’s got lunch ready for you, and…” he started. But seeing who was outside, Gohan’s face beamed, and he ran towards the group. “Mr. Piccolo!” he shouted, skidding to a halt in front of his first mentor, grinning brightly at him.

                Though it was small, a smile crossed Piccolo’s face. “Hey, Gohan,” he said, running his hand over Gohan’s hair, careful not to drag his pointed nails against it too roughly.

                Gohan glanced at Ash briefly, before addressing Piccolo again. “Oh, Mr. Piccolo, have you met my brother yet?”

                Piccolo recoiled like he had been shocked out of his skin. “B-brother?!” he blurted out. He turned to Goku, an incredulous look on his face. “Wait, you’ve had another kid this whole time?!”

                “No, we just got him the other day,” Goku said casually.

                This did nothing to stop Piccolo’s gawking. “Just… got…” Piccolo sputtered, before hanging his head and putting a hand over his forehead.

                “You know, you’re welcome to come in and join us,” Goku said, gesturing towards his house. “It’d give us all a chance to catch up on what’s happened.”

                Still holding his head in his hand, Piccolo looked up at Goku. “You know what? Fine. Because right now, I feel like I’ve spent a couple of decades in a coma and have only recently woken up.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I can’t wait to hear the explanations…” _But at the same time, I really_ don’t _want to hear them…_

* * *

 

                Piccolo could never get used to the sight of any of the Saiyans, halfling or otherwise, eating in such insane quantities and speed, no matter how many times he saw it. Seeing Goku and Gohan devour ridiculous amounts of food, with little regards to table manners in the former’s case, seemed like the stuff of nightmares. He wondered how Chi-Chi put up with it. Then again, he could only guess how much anger and irritation she was harboring, given the way she addresses and eating Goku with her arms folded and her gaze sharp and tightly focused on him.

                By contrast, Goku’s other son—Ash, he eventually learned—was a welcome breath of fresh air, given how he calmly and quietly ate… when he did eat, that is. He noticed Ash took considerably less and ate slowly, shying away from the conversation unless he was directly addressed. The way he acted suggested everything in the room made him highly uncomfortable. Then again, he probably didn’t help in that regard, seeing how he merely leaned against one wall with his arms folded, only occasionally sipping at the glass of water he had asked for.

                By the time lunch had wound down, Goku had started on explaining what had happened over the past few days, fully understanding that his old enemy might not fully buy into what he was explaining.

                “Not for nothing, Goku,” Piccolo started, “but all of this is kind of hard to swallow…”

                “Trust me, I understand,” Goku answered. “It’s kinda hard for me to believe this is happening, too…”

                “I dunno… you’re taking this awfully casually, all things considered.”

                Goku shrugged. “Yeah, well… I figured if I worry too much about how and why these new enemies operate, it’ll make it more difficult to fight them.”

                Piccolo hummed in acknowledgment. “And to be honest, all this talk about alternate realities and timelines is really difficult for me to wrap my head around…”

                “And that’s where you’re drawing the line, huh?”

                “Aliens, space travel, blowing up planets, that stuff’s a bit out there, too, but it’s been proven to be plausible, at least by our standards.” He shook his head. “I’m not too keen on this whole notion of the entire solar system being governed solely by magical powers… or of another where kids can just go out into the wilderness and assemble their own personal armies of monsters that have incredible elemental powers but are bound to the whims of _children_.” He looked over at Gohan and Ash, the latter looking hurt by Piccolo’s words, while the former looked at him in disbelief. “Um… no offense.”

                 “It… it’s fine,” Ash managed to get out, his gaze averted. He had heard worse about being a Pokémon Trainer, but it never _didn’t_ affect him in some way.

                Piccolo felt a little guilty over the kid’s reaction, but then again, Gohan’s disapproval was probably compounding matters. “Still can’t believe you up and adopted a kid, Goku…”

                “Not officially, yet,” Chi-Chi added as she closed the refrigerator door. “It’ll still take some time to get all the paperwork done.” She held a pitcher of ice water in one hand as she walked up to Piccolo. Seeing what she was offering, Piccolo lowered the hand holding his mostly empty glass and allowed Chi-Chi to top him off.

                “It’s been awesome so far, that’s for sure!” Gohan interjected, grinning wide.

                “It’s only been… what? Two, three days?” Piccolo asked. This did nothing to remove the big, beaming grin from Gohan’s face. “Then I can assume you haven’t told anyone else yet, have you, Goku?”

                “Not yet. We’re still getting everything settled here, first. Besides, I haven’t seen anyone else since I got resurrected.”

                “They haven’t been around yet, huh? Eh, I’m not worried. We’ll see them again eventually.”

                Ash and Gohan exchanged glances. “See who?” Ash asked.

                Goku and Piccolo glanced over at the boys.

* * *

* * *

 

                _One thing you gotta know about your dad… he’s made some weird friends throughout his life…_

 

                Out in the seemingly infinite expanse of the ocean, countless islands of varying shapes and sizes poked out over the water’s surface. Some were large enough to support vast and populous cities, others home to flourishing wildlife yet untouched by man, while others were little more than elaborate bits of sand, no bigger than a few square yards in size, virtually unable to support any kind of inhabitant on them.

                But one seemingly insignificant, lonely little island was a staunch exception.

                The sandy shores ringed the island, while the center was all grass. A couple of palm trees stretched out to the sky, one of them only about half as tall as the others. But what was most notable about this island was the house stuck in the middle of it, nearly completely out of place. It was bright pink, with red roofs and awnings. The phrase “KAME HOUSE” was painted on the wall over the front door in the same bright shade of red. What almost no one else knew about the house was that it was prefabricated—a product of the Capsule Corporation, though it hadn’t been put into its capsule state in years. It was home to few residents, though Son Goku and his friends have made use of the place numerous times in the past.

                Aside from the brown loggerhead turtle that lolls in the sun during the days, the house is home to the legendary martial artist Master Roshi, whose students have included Ox-King, the desert bandit Yamcha, and, most notably, the former Orin monk Krillin, and the Super Saiyan warrior Son Goku. While the latter three have surpassed Roshi in terms of objective, numerical power level, they still respected his teachings and his wisdom.

                “Eh… heheheheheh…”

                …when he wasn’t being a complete and absolute pervert, of course.

                The centuries-old martial arts master currently sat in a deck chair with his legs stretched out and his ankles crossed, wearing a gaudy floral print shirt, jean shorts, and a pair of red-rimmed sunglasses, one of his slipper shoes dangling half on and half off one foot as it bobbed up and down. The small, circular end table to his side had a tall beer mug on it, half full of beer—two-thirds full, if the foam was counted. And the old, eccentric master was face-first in a pornographic magazine. The sounds of his perverted, raucous laughter were as common as the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore. He paused to take another sip of his beer, swallowing with a contented sigh and wiping some of the lingering foam off of his bushy mustache and beard, both of which were stark white.

                With no other appointments or obligations to contend with today, and with no word of any of Goku’s friends or allies intending on paying him a visit, save for his sister, the witch Baba, it was another lazy day on the island. So, this was how Roshi chose to occupy his time. He had all but tuned out the sounds of the waves against the shore, the TV on inside the house, the sounds of someone splashing around in the distance, yelling out for assistance…

                The front door was pulled open abruptly and out strolled a bipedal pig, standing about three feet tall, and clad in a short-sleeved dress shirt with the top two buttons left open, and dark blue slacks held up by red suspenders. “Hey, Master Roshi,” he started, “we gotta do something about the antenna, because the signal keeps—what in the…?” His ranting towards the old man was cut off as he looked out to the horizon, and saw something flailing around in the water. Squinting and taking a harder look confirmed to the pig man that it was indeed a person out there, possibly drowning. “Yo! Master Roshi! You there?”

                Roshi’s head turned in the pig’s direction after a second, and he lowered his magazine to look fully at him. “I’ve been out here all afternoon, Oolong,” he told the pig. “You know that.”

                “Yeah, I noticed.” Oolong pointed out to sea. “Did you not notice that at all?”

                Roshi’s gaze followed where he was pointing, and he leaned forward in his deck chair to get a better look. Soon enough, the sounds of splashing and struggling in the water became more apparent. “Hoo boy… that’s not good…” He looked over at the turtle that was dragging himself out to the water. “Turtle?”

                “Don’t worry, I’ll go get ‘em,” Turtle said, dipping his head forward and down as he disappeared into the surf.

                Turtle may have also spent most of his time on the island hanging around Master Roshi, but it didn’t mean he had let his swimming skills lapse. He managed to get to the drowning person in about twenty seconds, swimming up underneath them, making sure their body was hunched over his shell.

                It took a moment, but he felt the person’s hands clamping onto his shell. “You alright?” he asked.

                “I… I’ll be fine now…” they panted, coughing up a bit of sea water.

                “I’ll get you back to shore in no time. Just hold on.” Just as quickly as he swam out, Turtle had made his way back to the island, letting the waves push him onto the sand for the last stretch. The person he rescued was slumped over on their elbows and knees, coughing and gasping for breath.

                “Thank you…” he panted. “Thank you so much…”

                As Master Roshi helped the man to his feet, he paused, taking a good look at him. “Well now… tried to go a little too deep, didn’t you?”

                “Especially since we’re the only ones around here with a submarine…” Oolong added, helping lead the man inside, into the living room. Baba was idly gazing into her crystal ball, which was about half as tall as her own roughly three-foot frame. Her entirely black outfit and broad brimmed, pointed hat did poorly in the warm, tropical weather, so she was content to say inside in the air-conditioned house.

                “Pig, you’ve seen the inside of that submarine yourself,” Master Roshi said as Oolong grabbed a couple towels and helped the waterlogged man dry off. “Those commercial models only house a handful of people, and that’s without factoring in the supplies…”

                “Well… what can I say? I feel at home in suck dark depths,” the stranger said, coughing a few more times. “The lifestyle that I live tends to involve taking a lot of risks…”

                As Roshi and Oolong looked the nearly drowned man over, a low, keening hum permeated the room. “Wait, what’s that sound?” Oolong asked, looking around. His and Roshi’s gazes soon went to Baba, who was staring at her crystal ball in abject shock. Some kind of dark purple smoke was building up inside of it, making her tremble in shock. “Um…”

                “This man…” Baba started. “I sense a great and terrible power emanating from him… a blighted presence not of this world…” She gasped. “This is but a demon, masquerading as a man!” Her head snapped towards Roshi. “Brother, you fool, you’ve brought him into your house?!”

                Oolong’s eyes went wide, his body trembling. “Aw, damn it,” he groaned. “Are we about to get killed because of you?”

                “Calm your chops, Pig,” Roshi retorted, his gaze hardening behind his glasses. “Nothing’s going to happen to you or anyone else…” He looked at the stranger. “You, on the other hand, are going to tell me just where you come from… and why you’ve got my sister over there ready to crawl up into her hat…”

                The scuba clad stranger’s gaze went around to everyone in the room, gauging all of their reactions. Regardless of the old man’s hard stare, he felt highly confident in himself. “Explain?” he asked. Then he smirked. “I think not. Actions speak louder than words, after all…” And he grabbed at his wetsuit with one hand and pulled sharply upward, Tiger’s Eye revealing his usual outfit underneath. He was about to call out “One!” to start the incantation… only for Roshi to strike him square in the chest as he breathed in, the word coming out as a painful, unintelligible wheeze. That was the least of his problems, as he was driven straight back and through the living room window, hitting the sand and skidding into the surf.

                Turtle, who had been relaxing in the shallow water, shouted in surprise as the body hit the soft, wet sand near where he was sitting. “What in the world?” he asked, before looking back at the house and seeing Roshi hop out the shattered window. “Roshi? What gives?”

                “Turns out our little friend isn’t who we thought he was,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and getting into a fighting stance. Behind him, Oolong peeked his head up from the window frame just enough to see what was going on, while Baba sat on her crystal ball as she watched Roshi challenge the intruder.

                Tiger’s Eye picked himself up off the sand, coughing from the hard blow to his chest that knocked the wind out of him. He turned to see the old man squaring up against him. “And what do you think you could do to me, old man?” he challenged, flicking his wrist and making his riding crop appear.

                “Boy, I’ve forgotten, relearned, and re-forgotten more you could ever hope to learn,” Roshi retorted. He inhaled sharply through his nose bringing his right knee to his chest, and then stomped it down hard on the sand with a thunderous sound—especially peculiar, given the sand—simultaneously making his muscles tense up and increase in size. Tiger’s Eye gawked at the sudden increase in size coming from Master Roshi, especially since the old man’s arms were approximately the size of the Dead Moon agent’s waist.

                As Roshi charged him, Tiger’s Eye swung his crop at the old man, who merely deflected it with his forearm as he stepped in, delivering several more punches to his midsection, each one landing with a painful groan from Tiger’s Eye, until he was bowled over with a stiff, hard kick. The scene repeated around the island several times, with Tiger’s Eye unable to mount any physical offense against the ancient martial arts master, who showed off what a lifetime of martial arts training and knowledge could bring. Every step, every attack, and every movement came with absolutely no wasted movement. Each shift in his body ended with either an attack or him moving his body out of the way of Tiger’s Eye and his riding crop.

* * *

 

                Inside the house, Oolong, Baba, and Turtle, having been helped in by the pig, watched as Roshi thrashed Tiger’s Eye around, interrupting his spell casting with numerous perfectly timed punches and kicks. Still, the old woman wasn’t entirely positive in her safety; should this interloper manage to get off any somewhat powerful spell, Roshi would be in dire trouble. “I can count on you two to protect me if things go awry, can’t I?” she asked, glancing at the two.

                Oolong, from her right side, gawked at her. “You’re kidding, right?” he barked. “What the hell do you expect me to do?”

                “Sacrifice yourself to help a vulnerable old woman, of course!”

                Oolong rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, sure; I’ll get right on that,” he grumbled, shrugging in disgust. “Here, this’ll protect you real good!” He suddenly threw his arms across his chest and brought his knees up under them, and transformed in a puff of smoke, taking the form of a very large revolver.

                Baba and Turtle, from Baba’s left side, just looked at the pig in gun form. “I doubt I could even pick that up, never mind fire it…”

                “And that’s a mighty big gun you’ve turned into,” Turtle mused. “The recoil alone would probably take her out as well as the guy Roshi’s fighting.”

                Oolong turned back into his normal form with a groan. “You’re killing me, you two!”

                The window on the other side of the living room shattered as someone was thrown through it, crashing into the coffee table, destroying it. Much to everyone’s shock, Roshi had landed in a heap on the floor. “No… that would be my job,” Tiger’s Eye declared as he stepped through the fresh hole in the wall. “Also, what the hell is wrong with this old man? Seriously, the depths of debauchery that permeate this man’s soul are unfathomable! Look!” He extended his right hand, his left hand lingering on his hip, loosely holding onto the riding crop, and showed off Master Roshi’s Dream Mirror. Unlike the pink and purple color scheme of a normal mirror, this one’s frame was a sickly shade of green, the bow a bright, searing shade of yellow, the length of it frayed and tattered.

                Oolong blinked. “What’s wrong with it?”

                “What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with it’? Look at it!” Even the reflective surface looked dulled and blurry. “The only way a person’s mirror can take on this level of corruption is if its owner is a total sleaze ball! An avatar of depravity and perversion!”

                Master Roshi was panting softly in pain, while the other three looked at Tiger’s Eye in confusion. “Then you don’t know Master Roshi at all, then…” Oolong managed to get out after a while.

                “Ugh… you martial arts types are turning into a total waste of effort,” Tiger’s Eye grumbled, throwing the mirror back at the downed Roshi. “Nothing I can come up with is even close to what that old bastard has going through his soul!” He looked at Baba, who was knocked off her ball when Roshi came flying through the window. “You, on the other hand… you have something that could be of use to me…”

                Baba got back on her ball and made it float backward, away from Tiger’s Eye, putting some distance in between the two of them. “Back, demon!” she shouted. “This power is not yours to possess!” Her gaze flipped over to Oolong briefly, even as she kept her focus on Tiger’s Eye as he approached.

                With a quick roll of the eyes, Oolong leapt towards Tiger’s Eye and transformed in midair, the exertion of his comparatively weak magic gaining the Dead Moon agent’s attention. He had turned back into the revolver from a little while ago, aimed right at Tiger’s Eye’s face. “Surprise!” he shouted, just as he fired. Tiger’s Eye was able to dodge the initial blast from the revolver-pig, and, to his surprise, the gun spun as it flew backwards, the pig reverting to his normal form after the first couple of bounces, crashing into a floor level kitchen cabinet, hitting his head on the door handle, knocking him senseless.

                Leaving Oolong to his recoil induced fate, Baba put her hands out, palms pointing at Tiger’s Eye as he approached, a stream of fire shooting out and into his face. Tiger’s Eye, however, merely put up his hand and quashed the magical fire. “Your brother may have gotten stronger with age, but the same can’t be said for you, old crone,” he taunted. He twirled his riding crop through and over his fingers before bringing his arm up and snapping it straight down, the leather loop at the end resounding with a loud crack. A sphere of black magical energy engulfed Baba and her crystal ball, making the old witch wail out in pain. She tried to force Tiger’s Eye’s magic off of her, the ball beneath her glowing brightly, but she could only hold out for a few moments before she slumped forward, unconscious, her and her ball dropping to the floor.

                Tiger’s Eye panted as he regained his breath, taking a moment to survey the trashed living room before him. The minor threats had been taken care of, and the main adversary was in no better shape to stand against him. He wiped off his forehead, not caring that the perverted Dream Mirror was returning to Roshi’s body without him even summoning a lemure from it. What could he come up with that would be worse than what the old man carried with him every single day?

                He scoffed as he shook his head. “It’s not like I was actually drowning out there, you imbeciles,” he muttered. He saw the turtle looking up at him, the old reptile resigned to his inability to try and stop the intruder. “Well, whatever. I can still salvage something from this little expedition…” He walked over to the downed Baba and her crystal ball, and raised his right hand, fingers spread out and palm facing down. “Though, I have to say, a flawless crystal like this is incredibly rare even in its natural state, much less as such a large ball…” He glanced at the turtle again, smirking as he took hold of the crystal and slung the unconscious Baba over one shoulder. “Give my regards to the old crone’s brother, won’t you?” he told the turtle before disappearing in a flash. A single sheet of paper floated out from where Tiger’s Eye was previously standing, drifting lazily to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I went through the chapter index and saw that chapter numbers weren't lining up with my .doc files on my computer. Turns out some drafts got copied and a new draft was pulled out of nowhere. No big deal, though; they were easily fixed.


	9. The Cracks in the Crystal

The following program is a non-profit fan-made story.

The _Sailor Moon_ franchise is owned by VIZ Media, Toei Animation and Naoko Takeuchi.

The _Dragonball_ franchise is owned by _Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV and Akira Toriyama._

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Please support all official releases.

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              Having concluded their lunch, Goku and Piccolo exited the former’s home, Piccolo having to tilt his body at a 45˚ angle to get his mantle through the narrower doorway. Gohan and Ash followed suit, Gohan still wanting to be near Mr. Piccolo, while Ash, with Pikachu on his head, felt obligated to follow, not wanting to be left by himself. It had been decided that Piccolo would inform the others about what had happened between him and the Senshi, unless Goku came upon them first. They had predicted everyone would, for the most part, be on board with it. But they both came to the conclusion that getting Vegeta to come to the defense of the planet would be a fool’s errand at best. Strong as the Prince of All Saiyans was, his focus and concerns seemed to be on him alone.

                Well… they definitely noticed Vegeta reacting to Bulma’s headstrong attitude and utter refusal to tolerate his bullshit. Perhaps she might coerce or goad him into helping. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

                “Still can’t believe those people came from a civilization centered on the moon, of all things,” Piccolo added as he stretched out, his taller frame doing poorly in Goku’s home. “And how exactly did they sustain themselves on the moon? Last I checked, it was barren…” _And, well… destroyed…_

                “Honestly, I don’t think even they know how it was possible,” Goku pondered, rubbing his chin. “And they technically lived there, too.”

                “And how does magic of that scale and magnitude just… go away?”

                “I had been thinking about that, and—”

                Everyone stopped as they heard a sharp sound ring out, like a giant bell ringing, but played in reverse. A glowing sigil themed around the face of a clock, the roman numerals glowing especially brightly, folded out in front of the four, but only Piccolo was really surprised; Goku and his sons had seen it before. Slowly, a figure stepped out of it, a female as tall as Goku and with long, dark green hair.

                “Sailor Pluto,” Goku said as he watched the Senshi of Time walk up to him, the sigil fading and disappearing. “I take it something’s bad if you’ve come all the way out here, huh?”

                Pluto nodded. “Indeed,” she said. “The Dead Moon has imposed their will upon this world… and on someone important to you.” She glanced over at the Namekian, who did not know what to make of the strange woman before him. “Piccolo, was it?”

                Piccolo blinked, not sure how she knew his name. “Yeah?” he asked. Upon thinking about it for a moment, he presumed Goku must’ve told her about him.

                “I would offer you come with us,” she explained. “Your strength will be indispensable for this.”

                Piccolo exchanged glances with Goku, not seeing Gohan and Ash doing the same. “Okay? But where to?”

                “How familiar are you with one very small island out in the ocean,” she explained, “with a single house on it—”

                Goku’s eyes widened. “You talking about Kame House?” he gasped.

                Sailor Pluto nodded. “So, you are familiar with it. Excellent.”

                Goku’s expression steeled. “You can explain what happened when we get there.” He held out his hand to Sailor Pluto and Piccolo. “I’ll teleport us there in an instant.”

                “Dad, let us come, too!” Gohan piped up.

                “Oh no, not this time!” Chi-Chi shouted, the front door swinging open quickly. “You two still have studying to do. Now get back in here and get to it!”

                Gohan looked pleadingly at Goku, who just closed his eyes and shook his head. “Listen to mom on this, boys,” he said. “Besides, Piccolo and I can take care of this.”

                Gohan looked disappointed. “Alright,” he muttered. He tugged at Goku’s hand briefly. “Just be careful, you guys!”

                Piccolo smiled ever so slightly. “Don’t worry about us, Gohan,” he assured him. “We’ll be fine.” He put his hand in Goku’s, while Pluto put hers atop both of theirs. In an instant, all three disappeared.

                Gohan sighed in disappointment as he walked back into the house, Ash close behind. “Maybe he doesn’t want us getting in the way,” Ash suggested, drawing an unbelieving look from Gohan.

                “Ash, come on, it’s not like either of us are completely useless, you know…” Gohan retorted.

                Ash diverted his gaze. _Maybe_ you’re _not…_ he thought miserably.

                “You can ask dad about his adventure when he gets back,” Chi-Chi said with a reassuring grin. As much as she disliked Goku running off to train and/or fight at the drop of a hat, she had no shortage of confidence in his abilities, especially when it came to protecting those important to him. “In the meantime, hit those books like they owe you money!”

* * *

* * *

 

                Goku’s back was to the house when he, Piccolo, and Sailor Pluto appeared outside of Kame House. He noticed Piccolo’s eyes widen and Sailor Pluto’s expression soften as they looked at the house, but when Goku turned to look, he gasped in surprise. “What happened here?” he asked. “Was there a fight?”

                “That’s what we’re assuming happened.”

                “Fighting, and some abduction, apparently.”

                The three turned to the sources of the new voices. One of them opened the front door and stepped out onto the landing in front of the door, while the other looked out from the broken living room window. The former was a tall, short-haired blonde, her sailor fuku sporting a dark blue skirt with yellow accents, her facial expression stern and sharp. The latter had wavy, sea green hair, her fuku a similar shade of green, with dark blue accents, her facial expression warmer and softer, but still serious for the situation at hand.

                “More of you Senshi?” Piccolo asked.

                “Indeed,” Pluto said. “You haven’t met the other Senshi yet, either, have you, Goku?”

                Goku rubbed the back of his head. “I think you guys may have referred to them in passing?” he asked. “Last time we all talked?”

                “Goku, Piccolo…” She gestured to the tall blonde and the green-haired Senshi in turn. “Allow me to introduce Sailor Uranus, and Sailor Neptune.”

                Goku nodded as he walked up to the front door, where Uranus was standing. “Hey! My name’s Goku!” he said with almost childlike kindness.

                “So I’ve heard,” Sailor Uranus responded, sizing the Saiyan warrior up a bit. “Didn’t know you were capable of teleporting like that…” She walked into the house, Goku following a step behind.

                “Yeah, well, I learned it out in deep space somewhere,” he said, keeping the explanation for his Instant Transmission short for the time being. “Why? How’d you guys find this place?”

                “The Senshi are capable of teleporting, as well,” Neptune explained, looking at Goku from the living room, while Piccolo hopped in through the broken window. “However, it takes at least two of us at a time, channeling our magic into one another at once. The more Senshi involved, the greater the range of the technique.”

                Goku had heard the explanation as background noise as he looked around the inside of Kame House. The TV and the living room windows were smashed, the broken glass crinkling underfoot for both Piccolo and Sailor Neptune. The coffee table was similarly busted, the tabletop split and the legs snapped off underneath. Though he didn’t see it from inside, the outside of the house had a couple scorch marks on it, evidence of Roshi’s fight with Tiger’s Eye.

                Speaking of, he looked to the couch and saw Master Roshi laying on his back, head propped up on the arm rest. He groaned in exertion as he shifted on the couch. “Master Roshi?” Goku called out as he came over to him. “What happened here?”

                “Goku? That you?” he asked, running his hand over his eyes. He reached for his sunglasses and put them back on.

                “Yeah, Piccolo’s here, too. Are you alright?”

                “I’ll… I’ll be fine,” he groaned.

                “Your friend here, Master Roshi, was it?” Neptune asked.

                “Yeah, that’s me…” Roshi confirmed.

                “He was attacked by agents of the Dead Moon.”

                “I don’t know who’s dumber, that guy for acting like he was drowning, or me sticking my neck out to save the bastard…” Roshi by now managed to sit up, still holding his head.

                “Didn’t you try fighting him off after he showed his true nature?” Piccolo asked.

                “Damn right I did. At first, anyhow…” He shook his head. “I was kicking his skinny little ass literally all around the island. Next thing I know, he conjures up some kind of… I dunno what kind of spell it was, but I saw about a dozen of him in front of me, and, well…”

                “You swung at a tree thinking it was the real deal, huh?” Uranus asked.

                Roshi grumbled in agreement, still upset at his failure. “And then after that, he’s got me hovering off the ground as he pulled some… _thing_ out of my chest. It looked like some kind of mirror, I think…” He shook his head. “I tell ya, I’ve lost track of how many years I’ve spent training in martial arts; the fact that I got suckered in like that… it’s embarrassing!”

                All six heads suddenly turned towards the kitchen at the sound of one of the cabinets rattling as it shut. “Would you stop being so loud, you guys?” a gruff voice called out. Oolong staggered out of the kitchen, holding an ice pack to his head to quash the throbbing pain he had been dealing with for some time now, having taken a header into the cabinets after his failed attempt to stop Tiger’s Eye.

                Uranus and Neptune gasped in surprise, their eyes going wide. “A talking pig?” Uranus asked.

                “Name’s Oolong, nice to meet you,” he grumbled, stumbling a bit before he made the trip back to the couch.

                “Careful, there’s broken glass everywhere,” Roshi warned. Oolong merely leaned against the arm of the couch, holding the ice pack firmly to his head.

                “What happened to you, Oolong?” Goku asked.

                “That creep who beat up Master Roshi got the drop on Baba, too,” he explained. “I tried to stop him, but a fat lot of good that did…”

                “Did he say where he took her? Where did they go?”

                “I dunno, memory’s a little hazy, what with the possible _concussion_ I’m dealing with…” Oolong groused, slumping to the floor, feeling a bit dizzy standing there.

                “You’ll get over it, Pig,” Roshi said, standing up. “Besides, right now we gotta worry about finding my sister…”

                Piccolo had been taking in the scene before him, and as he got out of the way of Oolong as he moved, his foot landed on something that felt like paper. “What’s this?” he asked, bending down to pick the parcel up. He held it out flat in front of him, the gaudy artwork and eye-searing text visible to everyone.

                “Looks like a poster,” Goku said, scrutinizing it a little closer. “Like the circus is in town or something…”

                Sailor Pluto grabbed the paper, tilting it towards her so she could see it better. “The Dark Moon Circus. That’s the front the Dead Moon is operating under.”

                “But why would they go with—” As Goku tried to rationalize their enemy’s behavior, the poster suddenly glowed, engulfing the room in a piercing, bright light. Oolong yowled in agony as the sudden bright flash assaulted his eyes, the pig man harshly rubbing his free forearm over his eyes.

                “Damn it! Knock it off!” he bellowed, blinking rapidly a few times. When the light died down and his vision cleared, he looked around to see that he was alone in the room. “Goku? Master Roshi?” He paused. “The hell did you go?”

* * *

* * *

 

                “—a circus motif? I mean…  um…” Goku’s words stopped short when the light cleared and everyone got a look at their surroundings. Goku, Piccolo, Master Roshi, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto found themselves in a room that was similar to the living room of Kame House. However, the colors were distorted, muted. Even more strangely, the debris from Roshi’s earlier fight with Tiger’s Eye was hanging in the air, as if someone had hit pause in the middle of the battle. From what anyone could see outside, the sky and water were unnatural hues, and even more peculiar, the ocean looked unnaturally still, the surface of the water resembling a sheet of glass.

                “What happened?” Uranus asked after a few moments. “Where are we?”

                Goku shrugged. “You got me…” he muttered.

                Master Roshi did a quick mental head count. “Oolong isn’t with us…” he noticed. The old man inclined his head towards the couch. “But he was right over there a moment ago…” He tried to look out the window. “And I don’t see Turtle anywhere, either…”

                Goku rubbed the back of his head in confusion. “This feels really… off. Hey, Pluto, aren’t we still at Kame House?”

                “No…” Pluto said, moving around to examine their surroundings. She let out a disgusted hum after a few moments. “This is exactly what I feared would happen…”

                “That we’d get sucked into an alternate reality that looked like our world?” Piccolo asked sarcastically.

                “In a way, yes.” She noticed Piccolo’s astonished look, answering his question completely straight despite the Namekian being sarcastic. “I explained this to Goku some time ago. The machinations of the Dead Moon clan have driven them to some rather… drastic measures. They’ve been searching alternate realities and timelines for either realities where the Sailor Senshi were defeated, seeking some twisted inspiration… or timelines where they simply did not exist.”

                “Kinda flattering, in a way,” Uranus added, “that they feel so powerless against us that they try to manipulate time and/or space in order to win.”

                “Be that as it may… I fear that their desperation would only compound as time went on. And if they can’t secure victory over us, they might turn causality inside out trying to do so.”

                Roshi was idly nudging the floating shards of glass, surprised to see that they didn’t move from their positions. “So how does that explain this… _version_ of my house, then?” he asked, glancing back at the Senshi.

                “I had told Goku and the others I would watch for… anomalies like this,” she explained as the others looked around the warped interior, testing things to see how they would react to stimuli, if at all. “Parts of reality where things would intersect unnaturally. Tiger’s Eye abducting your sister and trying to trap us in—what I hope is—a miniature dimension is an example of such.”

                “Didn’t you say your sister is a witch, too, Master Roshi?” Neptune asked.

                “Fortuneteller, to be specific,” he answered. “But that crystal ball she carries with her is a lot more powerful than she lets everyone think…”

                “For all we know, these circus freaks might try to use her and her ball to grant themselves greater power,” Piccolo surmised, his gaze going to the front door. “And who knows what they’ll try to do with our realities after that…” He pushed open the front door and stepped outside, Goku and Sailor Pluto coming out a few steps behind.

                “We’ve surmised that they don’t entirely know what they’re doing regardless,” Uranus explained. “And that they’re just as likely to unmake their own damned selves instead of erasing the Senshi as a whole from existence”

                “I see…” Piccolo hummed to himself, his gaze shifting away from the tall blonde. “I can understand, in a way. I’ve done some pretty desperate things to stop my enemies in the past, too…” _Like blowing a hole through Goku, on_ Goku’s _suggestion… blowing up the moon…_

                Goku walked to the edge of the beach, looking out at the oddly colored sky. Though he wasn’t paying attention, the sand silently shattered under each step he took, only to reassemble, as though its “shattering” was quickly rewound. “Hello?” he called out. “Baba? Oolong? Turtle?” He looked around, not seeing anyone else. “Anyone?” He looked back at the others, who had all made their way outside, and shrugged. “So now what?”

                “Now? Whatever I will, of course!”

                The voice sounded like it came from everywhere at once, reverberating harshly around the trapped warriors and Senshi. Everyone got into fighting stance on instinct, the Senshi summoning their weapons, but no one could tell where that voice was coming from.

                “Where are you?” Pluto demanded, her grasp on her Garnet Rod tightening. “Show yourself, Dead Moon!”

                “If you insist…” The air shimmered out over the “water” just on the surface, and they watched as Tiger’s Eye appeared, floating in the air a couple feet above the surface. “My, what a wonderful artifact your family has in its possession.” Hefted in his right hand was Baba’s crystal ball, and much to everyone’s surprise, Baba was imprisoned in it, the fortuneteller unconscious and curled up in a ball, her head pointed downward.

                “Damn you…” Roshi growled, his fists tightening in anger. “You give her back this instant!”

                Tiger’s Eye shrugged, chuckling condescendingly. “You’re more than welcome to try and take her from me—”

                “Suit yourself.” Roshi quickly crossed his arms and stomped the ground with his right foot, letting out a loud kiai as he assumed his fighting stance. His muscle mass had more than doubled throughout his entire body in the blink of an eye.

                “Hold on, what?!” Tiger’s Eye shouted, gawking in surprise.

                Bellowing loudly, Roshi took a flying leap at Tiger’s Eye, left foot extended in a flying side kick… only for Tiger’s Eye to float out of the way easily, causing Roshi to land harshly on the glassy surface of the water… whereupon he fell in, the “glass” trying to seal itself around him as he thrashed and tried to tread water.

                “Oh, that’s right, I forgot to mention,” Tiger’s Eye said, grinning in amusement at Roshi’s struggles. “The same magical energy that fuels the Dead Moon Circus has given form to this altered reality. All that muscle and all those martial arts attacks aren’t going to do you a lick of good!” Underneath him, Roshi continued to struggle to stay afloat, as the “water” felt like he was trying to swim through molasses.

                “Good thing we’ve got a strong supply of that,” Uranus shouted, raising her right hand above her head, energy gathering in a bright yellow sphere in her outstretched palm. “Uranus World Shaking!” She then brought her hand down, slamming it into the ground, sending the attack hurtling straight at Tiger’s Eye. The attack had a thin ring around it, in imitation of the planet Uranus itself, as it zeroed in on its target.

                With a gasp, Tiger’s Eye and the crystal ball teleported out of the way, far off to the group’s left, while the World Shaking sailed off harmlessly before exploding just at the horizon. “That could’ve been trouble,” Tiger’s Eye warned. “Or not, since you Sailor Simpletons are moving in slow motion to me!”

                “Let’s see you dodge this, then!” Piccolo bellowed, igniting his ki and charging at Tiger’s Eye, leaving an astonished Uranus and Neptune back on the shore.

                While Tiger’s Eye was distracted with the others, Goku teleported out to where Roshi was, his old master nearly submerged completely. His hand snatched the old man’s up quickly, and he pulled him straight up, before teleporting the two of them back to dry land. “Thanks, Goku,” Roshi said, discarding his ruined shirt. “Welp. I’m officially over this place…”

  
                “We’ll figure something out, trust me,” Goku said.

                “I can’t do much with him all the way out there, so try and lure him back here, if you can,” Roshi told his prize student.

                “I was planning on it,” he said, igniting his ki. “Hopefully you three will get a clear shot at him as well.”

                “Hopefully,” Uranus groused, still upset she missed.

                With a yell, Goku took off after Piccolo and Tiger’s Eye, joining his old rival in battle. As he watched the two clash with Tiger’s Eye, Roshi looked over his shoulder, believing he heard something coming from behind him. While the Senshi tried to get closer to the fight, Roshi looked in the opposite direction, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He held his focused gaze for a few moments before his eyes widened in surprise. “What the hell…?”

* * *

 

                In a sharp contrast to their first encounter, Tiger’s Eye was making sport of Goku, dodging everything he threw at him with a laissez-faire attitude, watching as both Goku and the green man swung at spaces in the air where he _was_ almost a whole second ago. “Bet you wish you were still at that mall, don’t you, Goku?” Tiger’s Eye taunted, while Goku punched through an afterimage of the Dead Moon agent, much to the Saiyan warrior’s growing ire. “Oh, I love it when the shoe gets put on the other foot like this!”

                “What are you gonna do for an encore?” Goku shouted, whiffing another big spinning kick. “Try and take me out with one shot as well?” He growled in frustration. “Why not just end it now, if you’re so confident?”

                “Please… you think too highly of yourself,” Tiger’s Eye retorted. “Every single inch of me hurt the first time we fought. I’m merely returning the favor!” Goku stepped in and threw a flurry of punches, all of which were dodged by Tiger’s Eye as he lazily drifted backward. “And I’m going to enjoy it as much as you enjoyed humiliating me.”

                “You tried to hurt my sons! There was nothing enjoyable about that at all!” With a yell, Goku’s right hand snapped outward, and he shot a blast of his ki the size of his head at Tiger’s Eye, who only barely got out of its way.

                “Ha! Looks like raw ki is a different story for you, circus freak!” Piccolo said, smirking, He was already formulating a plan.

                “I’ll thank you not to call me that again… whatever the hell you are!” Tiger’s Eye retorted… only to squawk in surprise as Piccolo fired eye lasers at him, his body just barely twisting out of the way. The beams flew harmlessly out into the distance, until he heard them hit solid ground with a small explosion, followed by… Master Roshi shouting as he jumped out of the way?

                Piccolo looked back over his shoulder and saw Master Roshi turning his head towards him and back in the opposite direction several times. It then dawned on the Namekian. “Goku!” he shouted. “The space around this entire island is a loop!”

                Goku paused in the middle of his barrage of ki blasts. “What do you mean?”

                “If we just keep flying straight, we’ll keep flying over the island, over and over again!”

                “Didn’t think you’d figure it out so quickly, greenie,” Tiger’s Eye taunted. “All it means is you have nowhere to run. You’re completely at my mercy here!” He brought Baba’s crystal ball in front of him, one hand over top while the other was underneath, fingers stretched out and barely touching it. Inside, Baba writhed and yelled in agony as dark magic swirled around inside, until it oozed out of the ball and swirled around his hands. He laughed wickedly, and whipped his hand towards the illusionary island, the shadowy magic flying to Roshi and the Senshi in streams, coalescing into vaguely humanoid shapes with elongated arms and searing, glowing holes where the eyes and mouths would be.

                “Well, at least we won’t be left out of the action,” Sailor Uranus said, flicking her wrist with a flourish and making her Space Sword materialize in her hand.

                “I hope they don’t take him out too quickly,” Roshi added, rolling out his still muscular shoulders.

                The shadowy mooks let out unearthly screeches as they swung at the group, the four of them dodging in different directions. “Gotta stick up for family, huh?” Neptune remarked. She had materialized her Deep Aqua Mirror in her hand just as quickly as Uranus did with her Space Sword.

                Roshi nodded. “Oh, absolutely,” he said with a confident smirk. He jumped and threw a spinning side kick at one of the fiend’s head, only for the foot to pass right through it. The only saving grace was that the appendage wavered harshly back and forth, briefly becoming transparent, before solidifying. Thankfully, it was rooted in place as it took the blow.

                When the shadow fiends bore down on them, Neptune held the mirror out in front of her, her free hand pressed against the back of it. A light green semi-dome formed in front of her to shield her from their attacks. Each of their limbs bounced off the barrier harshly, with said barrier distorting briefly on each impact. She only occasionally flinched at the impacts against her barrier as she tried to devise a strategy or search the things for weaknesses. “It would seem purely physical attacks are right out, then…”

                “Sorry, Master Roshi,” Sailor Pluto remarked, “this might be a bit over your head, in that case…” While her Garnet Rod was a magical artifact, it alone didn’t inflict enough damage to destroy the fiends outright. However, a square hit from the blunt end of the rod would stun it enough for Uranus’ Space Sword too cut it apart much more easily, the fiend dissipating into dust that scattered into the air. Thankfully, their normal planet themed attacks could blow them away, but their numbers never really seemed to diminish.

                As she fired off a Dead Scream attack at a handful of shadowy fiends, disintegrating the center two on impact and sending the rest scattering, she failed to notice a larger one, formed when injured fiends melded into a single entity, reared back and swung mightily at the Senshi of Time. She turned around just in time to see its huge arm swing at her, her Garnet Rod reflexively drawn up to block. But just before it hit its mark, the garnet gem in the end of her rod glowed brightly before flashing a brilliant crimson light over the island. All of the dozens of shadowy fiends were stunned in their tracks.

                Pluto looked at the still glowing gem in shock. “You’re… you’re protecting me…” she said to herself.

                Seeing the larger beast, Roshi had broken off from the fiends he was fighting, having to resort to stunning them with punches and kicks long enough for either Uranus and Neptune to finish off. But the much larger enemy got his attention immediately, and he took a flying leap at it, his foot connecting dead center in its chest. Much to his surprise, the creature was knocked backward, collapsing to the beach, half out into the water. It took him a moment to figure out what had happened, but once he did… “You’re not going to escape me this time!” he shouted, drawing his hands to his right hip, palms hovering over one another, channeling his ki. “Ka… me… ha… me… HA!” A wide beam of bluish-white energy fired out of his palms and washed over the giant shadowy fiend. It roared in pain as it disintegrated from the attack.

                Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto were cutting down the rest of the still stunned monsters, the latter of which pausing at Roshi’s display. “That’s…” she started. “That’s Goku’s attack, isn’t it?” she asked.

                Roshi rolled out his shoulders, folding his arms. “Who do you think taught it to him?” he replied confidently, his beard wiggling back and forth briefly.

* * *

 

                As Tiger’s Eye darted around avoiding the volleys of attacks coming from Goku and Piccolo, he had the same incessant smirk on his face the entire time. The power that the old crone’s crystal ball was giving off was making this far easier than he could’ve imagined. Not only did this pocket reality enhance his own power, making it easier to tap into the ball’s energy, but these two ignoramuses saw no change in their own power as a result. The Dead Moon agent was able to predict where every single one of those flailing punches and clumsy kicks like they were moving in slow motion. He didn’t even have to attack, either; he was content to see how long it would take before they wore themselves out. Occasionally he would lash at them with his riding crop, just to irritate them further. Particularly the green one, who would get especially incensed at the relatively weak strike.

                “Alright, screw this,” Piccolo muttered, gesturing for Goku to break off the attack.

                “You got a plan, Piccolo?” Goku asked as he came to a stop next to him.

                Energy built up in the Namekian warrior’s hands. “Let’s see just how much the little circus freak can dodge…” His right hand shot out, firing the blast of ki, the size of a softball, towards Tiger’s Eye. He nonchalantly dodged it. Piccolo then fired another with his left hand… which was also dodged easily. He then fired another from his right. Then from his left. Then from his right again. Piccolo’s hands moved in blurs as he fired dozens of these small energy balls at and around Tiger’s Eye. Sure, the number of attacks increased dramatically, but they weren’t any harder to dodge. It took several moments, but soon the Dead Moon acrobat realized that Piccolo’s blasts were going wide—over his head, under his feet, to his left, to his right… he didn’t know what to make of it.

                “Have you lost your depth perception, slug man?” Tiger’s Eye called out.

                Piccolo’s only response was to fire more energy blasts.

                “I’m not dodging anymore. Hell, I’m not even moving!” He gestured to him with his hands. “Are you even aiming at me?”

                “No!” Piccolo barked.

                “Then what are you aiming… at…” Tiger’s Eye’s question died on his tongue as he observed the empty air above the distorted Kame House. The energy blasts that he thought would go wide and hit absolutely nothing—or even Piccolo himself, should they fly all the way around the infinitely repeating space and hit him in the back—were holding in the air around him, glowing brightly, lighting up the sky in more natural looking tones. Each one let off a soft hum, which, when all combined together, created a high-pitched keening noise, which shook Tiger’s Eye to his core.

                Tiger’s Eye looked at Piccolo, who had his arms stretched out to his sides. When their gazes met, the Namekian threw his arms over his chest. “Hellzone Grenade!” he bellowed.

                Tiger’s Eye let out a gasp as the energy balls started to collapse onto him. The gasp turned into a shout as he was suddenly inundated by exploding ki blasts, turning the sky above the island into an explosive fireworks finale.

                In the ensuing chain reaction of explosions, Goku and Piccolo failed to see what happened to Tiger’s Eye as the dust built up and obscured their vision. They initially saw him bounced around from explosion to explosion over and over again, his yells of pain quickly drowned out. It wasn’t until they heard the Senshi call out to them that they realized where he ended up.

                The shadow figures kept coming and coming for the Senshi and Master Roshi, until Piccolo’s Hellzone Grenade went off with Tiger’s Eye inside it. With the source of the magic disrupted and severely weakened, the fiends couldn’t maintain their shape or their presence, and soon flickered out and faded away on their own. The four of them were still on edge, standing in defensive stances, waiting for them to resurge any second now. They looked up when they saw Tiger’s Eye screaming as he hit the ground, his body curled up around the ball, as though its power and possible foresight his superiors could use were more important than his own life. Or maybe he didn’t want Baba to be released from her prison yet. Either or.

                “Huh. That explains that,” Sailor Uranus said, watching Tiger’s Eye struggle to his feet.

                “You’ve got nowhere to run, Dead Moon,” Sailor Pluto told him. “Now release the old woman at once!”

                Defiantly, Tiger’s Eye lashed his crop at them, black energy surging around it. “Every one of you step back or I’ll shatter this ball and the old crone!” he warned them.

                Roshi looked over at Sailor Neptune, who was holding up her mirror to Tiger’s Eye. “What do we—”

                “He won’t,” Neptune said calmly. “Its power is too much to just let go so easily, as much as he had to fight to contain it.”

                Roshi blinked, unseen thanks to his sunglasses. “What? How do you know that?”

                She gestured with the mirror briefly. “The Deep Aqua Mirror reveals the hidden truths of anyone it is pointed at,” she explained, keeping it simple for the uninitiated martial artist.

                “So it’s like a magical lie detector.”

                Neptune shrugged slightly. “In a sense.” Her gaze sharpened as she beheld Tiger’s Eye in her mirror, and she blinked once, suddenly going wide-eyed. The image of Tiger’s Eye became transparent, while the image of a tiger started to take form in its place. “What…?”

                Tiger’s Eye saw Neptune’s focus falter for a bit, and he spun around and took a big swing with his riding crop. She dodged out of the way, but he tried to catch her on the backswing, only to get his crop caught on Uranus’ sword. The two pressured into one another, but it was clear that Uranus had the advantage. Tiger’s Eye groaned as he strained against Uranus, and tried to push against her one more time, trying to overpower her… only for his crop to pop straight up into the air, out of his grasp.

                “You can’t escape us this time!” Uranus bellowed, taking another big swing at him with her Space Sword.

                Panicking, Tiger’s Eye threw the crystal ball in between him and Uranus as she swung at him. What he wasn’t expecting was Neptune and Pluto to immediately and, almost on instinct, bring their weapons up to block, unable to predict what Tiger’s Eye was going to do. Time seemed to move in slow motion for the Senshi, their weapons coming down on the crystal ball in a moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity. As their weapons drew closer, a bright white light started to build up within the crystal ball. And just as their weapons were about to come down on it at the same time…

* * *

* * *

 

                The blinding flash of light made everyone reflexively cover their eyes. By the time everyone was able to regain their senses, they could tell they weren’t trapped in the pocket dimension any more. The sounds of the sea were the first things that helped them regain their bearings. The Senshi still had control of their weapons, still holding to them tightly despite being temporarily blinded.

                “Ack… what was that?” Piccolo asked, rubbing his eyes.

                “And… this doesn’t feel like where Tiger’s Eye had led us,” Uranus said, looking around finally. “Oh, hey… we’re back in the real world.”

                “That’s a relief,” Neptune added. Her eyes widened, and she looked around rapidly. “Wait, where is Tiger’s Eye?”

                “I don’t think he’s here anymore,” Pluto said, also scanning the area with her gaze. Sensing their enemy had abandoned the fight—or was still trapped in the pocket dimension he made—Pluto canceled her transformation into a Sailor Senshi, Uranus and Neptune following suit shortly thereafter.

                “You three all swung at Tiger’s Eye at once,” Roshi said, having removed his glasses to wipe the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “That ball started glowing, I think I saw Tiger’s Eye lose his mind and bail out, and then… here we are.”

                “You saw all that?” Setsuna asked the old man.

                “I didn’t see where Tiger’s Eye fled to, unfortunately. As for everything else, well…” He smirked, brandishing his glasses. “These _are_ sunglasses, after all.” He slipped them back on, grinning at everyone.

                “Kinda disappointing we didn’t stop him this time,” Goku said, rubbing the back of his head. “But at least we’re back home, and… wait, what happened to…” He looked down and saw Baba had been released from the crystal ball she had been imprisoned in. And that said ball was broken into three large shards.

                The fortuneteller let out a deep groan as she pushed herself off of her front to her knees…and then promptly sprung to her feet, looking around in a panic. “Hey! You! What? Gonna try that a… oh…” She calmed down when she realized the people surrounding her weren’t enemies.

                “You alright, Baba?” Roshi asked.

                “What happened to you that you got stuck in your own crystal ball?” Goku asked.

                Baba rubbed her forehead with one hand. “It all happened so fast I can hardly recall,” she started. “I tried pushing back against that guy, but next thing I knew, I got warped to a bastardized version of the island…”

                “Yeah, we just got through fighting our way out of there,” Piccolo added.

                Baba looked at the broken shards of her crystal ball. She held two of them together, and while it maintained the same round shape, the cracks formed could still be plainly seen. “He mentioned something about giving the ball to his master, to strengthen her clairvoyance. Like they’re searching for something. Zirconium? Zircon? Something with a Z in it…”

                “Zirconia,” Pluto clarified. “Leader of the Dead Moon clan, for the most part. They’re the group that the Senshi have been fighting for some time now.”

                Baba nodded, and gathered up the pieces of her crystal ball. “Well, no one’s using this now, now that it’s broken,” she said. “But I can’t let it stay like this.” She looked over at Roshi, who had stepped aside to reassure everything was alright with him to Turtle. “Hope you don’t mind, brother, but I’ll have to stay here until I can fix this and use my magic properly.

                “Eh, I figured as much,” he said. “Just let us clean up this place before you get too into it.”

                Nodding, Setsuna turned to Goku again. “Well, since you have everything situated back here, might I ask for your help in getting back to the mainland?”

                Goku grinned. “No problem! One teleport coming right up!” He held out his hand to Setsuna, who took it.

                Seeing the confused looks on the other Senshi’s faces made Setsuna shake her head slightly. “Haruka, Michiru…” she started. “This is how Goku teleports, through direct contact with him.”

                The tall blond, Haruka, gave it a moment’s thought, then shrugged and put her hand atop Setsuna’s. Michiru, the shorter woman with the sea green hair, did as well, gazing up at Haruka with a comforting smile.

                Goku put two fingers on his right hand against his forehead. Then, in the blink of an eye, they all disappeared.

                Roshi hummed to himself as he saw Goku and the Senshi disappear. He looked at the now empty space where they stood… and got a big, idiotic grin on their face. “Hoo wee!” he shouted. “Can you believe it, Piccolo? Fighting off evil in those outfits? Those short little skirts left so little to the imagination!” He cackled wildly, the old man able to go back into pervert mode now that the threats to their wellbeing were neutralized.

                Piccolo merely took off and flew away in disgust. Seeing the trail of ki left in Piccolo’s wake, like a green and white comet, Roshi scoffed and waved a hand dismissively, then headed back inside the house to help clean up the mess.


End file.
